


Only A Memory

by helldyke420



Series: Champion [3]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/F, F/M, Flashbacks of sexual abuse, Humanstuck, Hurt and comfort, M/M, and lots of gay shit, flashbacks of child abuse, lots of nonbinary and trans characters, love that gay shit, mentions of child abuse, mentions of sexual abuse, recovery fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-23
Updated: 2019-06-08
Packaged: 2020-03-13 05:05:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 23,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18934030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helldyke420/pseuds/helldyke420
Summary: It's been seven years since Kurloz grabbed his little brother and ran as far as he could from home. It's been a month since his father died and left the two his whole estate, house and all. It's fallen into even worse disrepair in those seven years, and it's time to clean house and sell, and pack up that chapter of their lives once and for all.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Only a Memory - Icon for Hire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains depictions of unsafe binding, mentions of child abuse, and flashbacks to implied child sexual abuse.

“I don’t want to renovate the fucking house. I’d rather burn it down with me inside.” Kurloz tells Gamzee, holding the phone to his ear tightly.  
“That’s some righteous fuckin anger my brother, and I assure you that wicked feeling be mutual. But Kat ‘n I be talkin it over you know? Karbro loves to talk.”  
“Oh, fuck you!” He hears in the background, the unmistakable voice of one Karkat Vantas. “Your lack of self awareness is truly incredible. And by incredible I mean utterly fucking insufferable.” Gamzee laughs easily.  
“Aw man, love you Karbro. But Loz, listen. He says if we fix the motherfuckin’ place up, it’d sell better. And I dunno man, I think so too.”  
“I’m not staying in a place where … no. I can’t.”  
“Hey, hey, listen. Karbro’s family still down there, and they be real nice people, they said we can crash there while we’re settling the affairs, so to speak.” Kurloz hesitates, and Gamzee knows an opening when he sees one. “You can’t tell me it wouldn’t bring you a wicked sense of satisfaction to take a sledgehammer to those motherfuckin walls.”  
“The Vantases have room for Mituna too?” Kurloz glances at his friend, leaning on his arm and sleeping quietly in the passenger seat. “He’s … kind of a lot to handle.”  
“Aw man they know Mituna! It’ll all be good. Let’s just try, okay? An’ if it’s too much, we’ll just sell it as is. You know rich people they love them fuckin fix it up projects sometimes.”  
“...I can’t believe I’m saying this, but fine. We’ll … renovate our dead dad’s torture mansion.”  
“When you word it like that it sounds real bad.”  
“It is.”  
“Yeah, you right. But I’m glad you’re gonna try.”  
“Sure. Sure, whatever.” Kurloz pauses as they pass by a sign announcing they were 15 miles from New Orleans. “How far out are you?”  
“Oh, I’m at Mr. Vantas’s right now! Me and Karbro be chillin in his room.”  
“Damn you got there fast.”  
“Yeah well I guess we were just closer. The world works in mysterious ways though, you know.”  
“Sure Gam.” He goes quiet.  
“How far away are you?”  
“Fifteen miles out of town. Should be in real soon.”  
“Miracles, man. I’ll let you focus on getting your bony ass here safe and sound, then.”  
“My ass is no more bony than yours.” He huffs, but he’s grinning.  
“You wish you had as prime an ass as I do. Later bro!”  
“Later.” Gamzee hangs up, and he puts his phone in the empty cup holder.  
“Wassa madder, what we doin’?” Mituna mumbles, the movement waking him a little.  
“We’re fifteen miles out, bee. Wanna wake up?”  
“Okayyyy.” He grumbles, sitting up with a yawn. “You doin’ okay?” He asks, and Kurloz nods stiffly. “Liar.”  
“Sue me.”  
“Yours impassible. Impossible. Fuck!” He grumbles to himself in irritation. “Kurloz wait. You drive all night?” Kurloz shrugs. “Fuckerrrr, you’re prolly so tires. Tired. Why didn’t you nap?”  
“Just wanna get this over with.” He says, and pauses. “Gamzee convinced me that renovating the house would be something we should try.”  
“Wait … for really?” Mituna asks, incredulous. “No!”  
“He said … we should try. So it sells better. I can’t imagine he kept it up after we left, it’s probably a disaster.” Mituna doesn’t say anything. “Why do you have a problem with it?”  
“Because he hurt you, Loz.”  
“He’s dead.” Kurloz grits out. “I have all his money to prove it.” That had been an interesting thing to recieve. His father had left no will, of course. And with no other relatives, he and Gamzee each got half the estate. It was, to be honest, a truly impressive sum. He went from being negative to having his balance look like a goddamn phone number. He never had any idea how much his dad had. Growing up he never saw a cent of it, but knew his dad didn’t have to work. Knew the house was their family’s, had been for a long time. That was all. He had no idea he was a fucking _multimillionaire_ though.

He’s pulled back to reality when they pull into the city, slowing down at a stoplight. People are milling about in the late afternoon sun, talking, holding hands, shopping. It made for a pretty picture. He turns down the streets he struggled to remember that led to the Vantas home. Mituna’s getting fidgety, bored of sitting down. Kurloz places a steady hand on his arm.  
“Almost there, bee.” He says gently.  
“I knowwww.” He whines, kicking his feet a little. “Mmmm. Kurloz?” He asks.  
“Yeah Mituna.”  
“You gonna bees quiet? Around them? Yeah?”  
“Yes, probably.” Mituna hums. “Are you okay to help translate?”  
“Yeah!” He says. “Obvissly. Obviously. Always.” He kisses his shoulder, and Kurloz smiles a little.  
“I can always count on you.” He says, leaning into him. He laughs.  
“Thuuuuure.” He says, and Kurloz slowly pulls to a stop in front of the Vantas household. He sees Karkat’s beat up little eco friendly car, alongside a pickup truck older than his. Kurloz pulls into a space in front of the house, careful not to block the mailbox.  
“We’re heeereeeee.” He says in a quiet singsong. Mituna unbuckles as soon as he parks and scrambles out of the car, running to the door. Kurloz smiles and turns his truck off, getting out a stretching.

His muscles ache from sitting so long, and it’s hard to breathe. He regrets binding today, he was such an idiot. It was going on 20 hours straight and he was in so much pain. What a fuckin idiot. He tells himself he can take it off and put a hoodie on soon, he just had to get inside. He takes their bags out of the back of the truck and carries them to the door, where Kankri and Mituna were talking. Well. Kankri was sputtering about personal space while Mituna tried to squeeze the life out of them. Finally, Mituna lets them go, and they straighten themself out prissily.  
“Well! That was an enthusiastic hello!” Comes the voice of Vantas the Eldest. His name was … Karcin, if he remembered correctly. He has a very friendly face, and quite strongly resembles both of his sons. “It’s so nice to see you two again! It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”  
“Yeahhhh an’ all i’took was thomebody dies to get us here!” Mituna cackles, and Karcin’s smile sort of freezes and looks at Kurloz to gage his reaction.  
“Now Mituna, it’s inappropriate to talk about the dead in such a joking manner.” Kankri says condescendingly.  
“What EVER Kurloz and Gamzee hated him. He was meeeaannnnn, Kranki!”  
“It’s Kankri.”  
“What I thay?” Mituna asks, frowning.  
“I- Never mind!” Kankri says, obviously flustered. “You two should come in already.” They all step into the house, and Kurloz takes his shoes off at the door, and nudges Mituna to do the same.  
_”Thanks for letting us stay while we … settle all the affairs.”_ Kurloz signs, and Mituna translates it well enough to get the point across.  
“Of course, you’re all welcome here for as long as you need. I … understand that your father’s home is not a place any of you feel welcome in.” He looks a little sad. “I met your father a few times and. He was a complex person. Not a very … kind man. But I’m sure that he … cared in his own way.” Kurloz knows that he’s trying to be comforting, but he couldn’t be more off of the truth. Their mother had died young enough that Gamzee never knew her. Kurloz only remembered her soft hair, her bright blue eyes. Dad had no interest in taking care of them after she passed away. And later that lack of interest turned into anger at their existence.  
“Kurloz don’ like talkin’ about his dad, Mr. Vantas.” Mituna chimes in, noticing how upset Kurloz was starting to get.  
“I’m sorry, Kurloz, of course. No problem at all. Forget I said anything on the matter. Let me show you where you’ll be staying, how about that?”  
“Okay!” Mituna says eagerly, and they both follow him down the hall. There’s muffled talking behind one of the four closed doors, and Karcin opens the one next to it.  
“This is the guest room, Unfortunately there’s only one bed, but Gamzee said you two wouldn’t mind?”  
“Nahhhh no problems! We be okay, share. All good!” Kurloz nods.  
“Great! I’ll leave you two to settle in, I’m sure you’re exhausted.”  
“Thank you…” Kurloz manages quietly. Karcin looks surprised, and then beams.  
“No problem at all, Kurloz.” He walks away, and Mituna pulls him into the room. Kurloz shuts the door gently as Mituna sits on the bed.  
“Wowww you found your tongue huh?” He asks him. Kurloz shrugs a little, setting his bags down.  
“It was. Difficult. But he’s so nice. Feel like I can relax around him a little. Throat isn’t closed up so tight.” He opens his bag, taking out his oversized hoodie and a black compression bra. It was the next best thing he could manage. He takes his shirt off, and Mituna gasps.  
“You’re binding alla way here? How long? Kurloz that’s bad!”  
“I know. I know.” He yanks the binder off and stretches, breathing deeply. It hurts, hurts quite a bit, but it feels so much better now. He coughs a few times, trying to clear the rattling noise in his chest.

He flinches as he feels a hand on his back, ducking away from the touch.  
“Sorry! Sorry, jus’ try and taking care of you.” Mituna says quickly. “Please. Won’t hurt. W’nna see how bad. Kay?” Kurloz hesitates but nods. Mituna’s hands are back on him, feather light and gentle. “Loz you bruise. Not bad. Please don’t bind a little bit, okay?”  
“Yeah I’m just … gonna slip my hoodie on and pass out. I’ll be better in the morning, bee.”  
“Not alla way. No binder!” Mituna insists. He moves away and picks up the compression bra. “Noooooo!” Mituna whines.  
“What?”  
“Jus’ let you heal! Take care you self. Yeah? Just sleep, nothing squishing down. Still han’some. Promise.” Kurloz fidgets, and finally just puts the bra back.  
“Fine.” He says, and puts his hoodie on. Mituna beams.  
“Good. Good! Okay. You’re sleepin’ now?” He asks, as Kurloz gets down to his boxers.  
“That’s the plan. Tomorrow me and Gam have to go to the coroner's office and … pick up the remains.”  
“You have’ta?” Mituna asks, scooching over on the bed to make room for him to lay down.  
“I mean. I don’t think we _have_ to. But I mean. I don’t know, it’s just his ashes, and if we don’t pick them up they’ll sit in a cardboard box in a dark office forever.” He pulls the blankets around himself, closing his eyes.  
“Maybe he deserves it.” Mituna mumbles. Kurloz doesn’t respond, and Mituna slides off the bed, feet hitting the ground with a soft thump. “Imma go talk t’Kranki. Kay?”  
“Okay. Night bee.”  
“G’night.” He hears Mituna pad out of the room, and the door open and shut softly.

It’s dark in his dream. Or rather, nightmare.

He has this one often.

He lays facing the wall in his room, breathing quietly, eyes open but deadly still. Like that might deter him.

The door creaks open, and yellow light washes into the room. His breathing comes faster. He’s panicking, doesn’t want to deal with this tonight, but he knew it would come, knew that his father was ramping up to another assault on his body. He tenses up all over, squeezing his eyes shut.

He smells the alcohol, feels his hands on him like snakes winding around his body, squeezing his hips, turning him on his back. He balls up, pressing his legs together. His dad’s laugh echoes in the room, impossibly loud, and feels lips press against his. He gasps in surprise and he takes his chin, forcing the kiss to deepen. He chokes on his tongue, the taste of shitty beer invading his mouth. It feels like hours before he pulls away, and hears a zipper come undone.  
“Daddy loves you, baby.”  
“Kurloz. Loz. Loz, wake up!”

Kurloz flinches awake, sitting right up and slamming his head into someone else’s. He swears, and he hears Mituna do the same.  
“Fuckshitdammithellfuck!!” He mutters, rubbing his forehead. Kurloz feels tears drying on his face, and he scrubs them away quickly.  
“Sorry, shit, I’m so sorry Mituna. Just … had a bad dream.” Mituna huffs.  
“Yeah I’know, s’why I woke you up.” Mituna mutters.  
“I’m sorry if I woke you…” He says softly, holding a hand out to bring Mituna close. He takes it, letting himself be pulled in.  
“I don’ care, Loz. Y’were crying in your sleep. You ‘kay? All good?”  
“I’m fine. Nothing … nothing unusual.” Mituna doesn’t say anything, but he hugs him tighter. “Let’s just go back to sleep. Okay?” He says, and he feels Mituna nod against him.  
“Okay…”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coming in, cleaning out

The Vantas household is not a quiet one.

Kurloz sits at the kitchen table silently, watching everyone talk, argue, laugh, and move around, trying to get ready for the day. He knew Kankri and Karkat loved to talk, and apparently they got that from their father. Gamzee was never exactly quiet, less so after coming into his own, and Mituna was a ball of energy as usual. Kurloz bit into his toast as he watched Kankri and Gamzee get into a discussion about some celebrity he wasn’t familiar with. He’d call it an argument, if Gamzee wasn’t talking lazily and smiling like he was having a great time.  
“I just don’t see how you can _support_ someone so clearly indifferent to the struggles of the working class. Their twitter is absolutely full of paper thin sentiments, and if he really cared for anyone but himself then he would do something besides make superficial tweets on the matter.”  
“Uh I dunno, brother. I just watch his videos sometimes. Motherfucker be mad funny.”  
“You think everything’s funny, Gamzee.” Karkat snaps from where he’s fiddling with an ancient coffee machine. “Jesus fucking Christ, dad, you need a new goddamn coffee machine.”  
“Language.” Chime both Kankri and Mr. Vantas at the same time, Kankri’s tone more scandalized, while Mr. Vantas just sounds amused with his son.  
“If it bothers you so, why not buy me a new one?” Karcin asks, grinning pleasantly.  
“If I had the money I’d buy you a gold plated house, but we’re not quite there yet.”  
“Aw man, Mr. Vantas sir, you want me to buy you a new coffee machine? I don’t know much about those things but I got enough cash for a hundred million coffee machines now.”  
“Probably more.” Karkat mutters.  
“Yeah man. Bro. Kurloz. How did we not know how much money our dad hoarded?” Kurloz raises an eyebrow.  
 _”Probably because he absolutely hated us and never said anything to us if he could help it.”_ Gamzee gives an easygoing laugh.  
“Yeah man, his hate was wicked hot for us.” There’s an uncomfortable lull in the bustle.  
“Well … I would never ask either of you to buy anything of course, you’re guests in my home, and I-”  
“Whoa, Mr. Vantas. It’s all cool.” Gamzee says, waving him away. “Me an’ Kurloz be mad appreciative about everything y’all do for us. Just wanna do some nice stuff for y’all since we can.” He looks to Kurloz, who gives an affirmative nod. “Man, I don’t even know what to do with all this money.”  
“Donating it is a good place to start.” Kankri says, tapping their fingers against their coffee mug.  
“Aw yeah man. Oh shit. Maybe save some of those cute l’il otters or somethin’? They be talkin’ all ‘bout those oil spills all the time. Some sad shit there, man.” Gamzee looks uncharacteristically sober at that.  
“Of course you go right to the otters.” Karkat mutters. “I thought we were done talking about that since you cried your eyes out about them last week.”  
“Karkat. Bro. You didn’t see those otters! They were so sad bro, just waitin’ for someone to save them.”  
“Okay, okay, donate to the fucking otters. It’s your goddamn money.” Karkat huffs.  
“Let’s all let Gamzee and Kurloz decide what to do with their inheritance.” Karcin says gently, placing a hand on Kankri’s shoulder. Karkat sits down next to his sibling, and the difference is striking. Karkat’s not tall, none of the Vantas’ are, but he’s broad shouldered and kind of buff, in the way you get through actual work instead of the gym. Kankri’s taller, though, and much more slight. They’re a lot more feminine now that they’ve been taking E, and they’re even wearing a little makeup. It’s interesting to see how they’ve changed, and they look much happier and hold themself in a much more relaxed way. Kankri notices your eyes on them, and gives him a small smile.  
“What about you, Kurloz? Any designs for your inheritance?” Kurloz shrugs a little. “You know, I’m taking sign as a language in college, I’d love to be able to practice with you.”  
 _”Always nice to be able to communicate with people.”_ He signs, and Kankri looks delighted.  
“I agree wholeheartedly.” They sign as they talk. They’re not as fluid as he is, but it’s to be expected.  
 _”I’m taking it one day at a time as far as the money. It’s … a lot. More than enough to never work again. But I’m not really into just sitting around all the time.”_  
“That’s fair. You’re probably going to have your top surgery done though.” Kurloz’s eyes widen a little, and he glances at Gamzee. That had been so far away, for so long, that the fact that he could now … finally feel a little more like himself, in his own body … It hadn’t hit him until that second.  
“Well we should prolly wait till we finish with the house.” Gamzee says. He hesitates, but nods reluctantly.  
“Nofairrr Lozzie needs it!” Mituna protest, looking up from a bowl of cereal.  
 _”I’ll be okay. I can’t exactly help if I’m recovering.”_ He signs.  
“Y’sure?” Mituna asks, hand going to his arm. He nods quickly. “G’ta bind less y’know.” He knows Mituna has never, ever had a filter, but … discussing his shortcomings in front of people who he really wasn’t … he didn’t _really_ know them. An uncomfortable silence settles as he doesn’t respond, just messes with his plate. “Lozzzzzzz, don’ be shy. So shy. Cute.” Mituna pokes his cheek, and Karkat snorts.  
“I wouldn’t call him cute.” He says, sipping his coffee. He makes a face and grabs the sugar, dumping more into the cup.  
“Rude!” Mituna grumbles. “Loz is cute! He has cute lips, an’ eyes, and when he gets all blushy he’s the cutest!”  
 _”Please, Mituna, stop.”_ Kurloz signs, feeling his face heat up. _”Let’s take it a day at a time. Today we … have to go get him.”_ He signs, and Mituna frowns.  
“I don’ un’erstan’ why y’gotta though. Stupid. Leave ‘im there.”  
“Maybe Mituna is right, Loz.” Gamzee says softly, messing with his fork. “He never did any favors for us ‘cept dying. Why should we even bother to move him around? They’ll keep ‘im.” Kurloz pauses, looking at the others nervously.  
 _”I … don’t think it’d be too big a deal to leave him for a few extra days.”_ He signs. Gamzee seems to relax a little.  
“Maybe we should … go over to the house and … clear it out a little.” Gamzee senses his hesitation. “I know you don’t wanna. Me either, but … we can do this shit, man.” He says. “It’s different now.” Kurloz nods once, but he can’t help but think … is it really?

Kurloz stands on the porch, staring at the door to the house. It’s exactly as he remembered it from the last time he’d seen it - closing it quietly on his way out, ushering Gamzee along silently.

Gamzee puts a hand on his arm gently, and Kurloz startles a little.  
“It’s okay bro.” Gamzee says softly, and he nods a little. “He’s not in there anymore.”  
“I know.” His voice is a whisper. He hears Karkat shift behind him, and his throat closes up again, his anxiety welling up in him. It’s too much, he can’t be here.  
“Imma open the door.” He closes his eyes as Gamzee moves away from him and he hears the door creak open.

He hears Gamzee move away from him, and cough a little. He opens his eyes, looking into the dark foyer. He can make out the stairs, the hall. His dad’s shoes by the door. It’s open like a yawning void, and Kurloz absolutely does not want to step in.  
“Kurloz. Good?” Mituna asks, as Karkat follows Gamzee in.  
“Yeah.” He whispers, staring into the house. “Yeah, I’m … I’ll be okay. The … smell.” He gestures a little. “Still … smells like I remember.” The scent in itself was not particularly unpleasant, but the mixture of cigarettes and incense is making him sick to his stomach. His dad used to light that shit everywhere. Made the house feel hazy.  
“Do you w’na go in?” He pauses.  
“No. But I will. He’s not in there anymore.” Mituna nods once, and Kurloz steps into his father’s house for the first time in seven years.

The floorboards creak more than he remembered they used to, and he pauses, looking around the entryway. It’s dustier than hell, and the floor is dirty. All the same furniture that’s been there since he could remember, old, old garbage that he thinks came from his grandparents. His dad wasn’t in the habit of replacing anything, even if it was broken. Mituna walks over to the keybowl, filled with both keys and not keys, including what looked like coins, rubber bands, and a few beer cans. Mituna pulls out his dad’s ring of keys.  
“This?” He asks. Kurloz has to focus hard on speaking.  
“Dad’s … dad’s keys. He … he had locks on every single door. Said it kept us safer. He was paranoid.”  
“Yeah he din’ seem super stables. Stable.” Mituna tosses the keys to him, and he catches them clumsily. “Yours now.”  
“I guess you’re right.” He says softly. He hears Gamzee and Karkat talking in the living room, and he takes a deep breath before following the noise. The hall is equally dark and dusty, and he ignores all the beer cans lining the edges of the floor in favor of being with his brother. Karkat and Gamzee look at him as he steps into the room.  
“Hey bro.” Gamzee’s voice sounds rough, and he nods once. “Yo, this shit sucks more’n I thought it would…”  
 _”It’s not as cavernous as I remember. Still cavernous … just not as much, I guess.”_  
“I guess that’s cause we were so little.” Gamzee pauses, staring at their dad’s armchair. “We were jus’ so little, ‘Loz…” They had told them their dad’s nurse found him dead there. Who knew that the thing that finally killed him was all his smoking? Judging from how disgusting the house was, he didn’t let the nurse do her job. Kurloz picked up a bottle from the side table, examining the half empty bottle. He wasn’t even sure why his dad hired her. Probably just to find him dead. “It’s … it stinks in here.” Gamzee says eventually.  
“It’s not that bad…” Karkat says softly, apparently trying to be comforting.  
“You don’t understand. It’s … the smell…” Gamzee makes a rough gesture. “It smells like … how I remember.” His voice is getting shaky, and Kurloz steps over, pulls him into a hug. Gamzee buries his face in Kurloz’s shoulder, and Karkat murmurs something about opening up the windows. “I know he’s not here. But that doesn’t help that much.”  
“I know.”  
“But … we can make this good. We can make this a place for a new family. T-to start over. Maybe someone with a li’l baby … and they’ll take good care of ‘em and … and love them, and they can play in the halls and maybe they’ll have a sibling…” Gamzee’s rambling, and Kurloz just pets his hair. “Is it worth it?”  
“I don’t think that anything worth doing comes easy.” Gamzee nods against him.  
“We can do this, right? We’re better than him. More than him.”  
“Absolutely…”  
“I got as many windows as I could find open.” Karkat announces, stomping back in. Kurloz flinches at the noise, and Karkat pauses and frowns. “Sorry. I’ll try to walk quieter.”  
“You’re so nice, Karbro.” Gamzee sniffles, pulling away from him. Karkat looks torn.  
“I’m not nice. Let’s get this room picked up.” Karkat opens the large plastic bag he’d brought in, and pulls out a bunch of rubber gloves. “Here. There’s no telling what diseases lurk in this place, so better safe than sorry.”  
“For sure, for sure.” Gamzee mumbles, wiping his tears away and pulling the gloves on. Kurloz slips his own on and makes a fist, looking at it.  
“What are we doing with everything? You care about keeping any of it?”  
“No. Get rid of it all. Burn it, trash it, throw it away. I’m sure dad has a gallon of something to start a fire somewhere.” Gamzee says. He seems to be doing okay now, back straightened and jaw set, ready to do something. He looks so much sharper now that Karkat weaned him down to smoking every three days.  
“Alright. Let’s clean this sad cave up.” Karkat says, snapping open a garbage bag loudly.

It takes about three hours just to throw everything away and drag the burnable furniture out to the old bonfire pit. Kurloz is exhausted by the time they’ve gotten half of it, but he presses on. It’s satisfying to take his dad’s life, pick it up, and throw it away. He feels a little sick with how satisfying it is to erase him from this house. From the world. This was his last stand, the last place he could take complete control over, control over everything and anybody in it. He almost never left. No one misses him, now. He wasn’t a nice person. A notable person, but not nice.

Soon the last piece of furniture sits in the middle of the room. The chair. Dad’s chair. Kurloz runs his hand over the arm, where his arm was when his heart gave out. He wondered if anger and bitterness really could kill him, affected his heart, made it ineffective. He smiles a little. It didn’t matter anymore, though, did it? Because either way, he was dead, and nobody missed him. That was his only legacy. Live alone, die alone, rest alone.  
“Help me drag that thing out.” He hears Karkat say, and he nods, going to grab one side. Karkat moves to the other side, and starts lifting. It’s … surprisingly easy to carry outside and toss with the other furniture. Karkat is making sure the pile is stable while he stares at the chair silently. Mituna is hovering around outside, kicking at a garbage pile a few feet away.  
“Your dad’s was gross, Kurloz.” Mituna says suddenly, and he has to nod his agreement.  
“Gas and matches, my brothers. Check it.” Gamzee says, stepping into the yard. Kurloz steps back from the burn pile and watches Karkat snatch them away from Gamzee.  
“You’re the last person I’d trust with those here. Even Mituna has a better grasp of fire safety.” Karkat says, making Mituna cackle.  
“Than c’n I light it?”  
“No. I’m lighting it. Where’s the fire extinguisher?”  
“Got a hose.” Gamzee says, and Karkat facepalms.  
“Go get that then, I guess. It’s not the most efficient option but it’s something.”  
“I dunno if the water is on. I ain’t paid no bills for the old man.” Gamzee announces.  
“Fucking great. Awesome.” Kurloz makes a waving motion to grab Gam’s attention.  
 _”I paid the utilities before we made our way down. Should be on.”_  
“Ayy, Kurloz got it! We be up and running now, my guys.”  
“Shut up and _please_ go get the hose from wherever it’s rotting.” Karkat says, and Gamzee gives him a lazy salute before retreating. Kurloz watches him go, folding his arms tightly. He hears Karkat pouring gas on the pile of furniture sparingly, and he turns his attention to the pile.  
“We g’nna get ticket f’r this?” Mituna asks.  
“Call the cops. I don’t give a fuck.” Karkat says. “Besides, this place is surrounded by three acres of their own land. Who’s gonna tell on us?” He asks, as Gamzee wanders back over.  
“I got the extinguisher, Karbro. This thing is a wicked motherfuckin’ miracle, ain’ it? Don’ even know how it up and works.”  
“Gamzee I am so exhausted from dragging your dad’s repulsive furniture out here that I don’t have the energy for your nonsensical rambling.” Karkat says, and Gamzee looks a little upset as Karkat takes the extinguisher. Karkat pauses, looking Gamzee over. “I didn’t mean that, Gam. Sorry.” Gamzee gives him a tight smile.  
“It’s okay, bro. I know it gets mad exhausting all listenin’ to me an’ stuff sometimes.”  
“I’m just irritated. Don’t take it to heart okay?” Karkat takes his hand and pulls him into a hug, and allows Gamzee to hold him tightly for a minute.  
“Awwwwwwhahahaha!!!!” Mituna says, interrupting the moment. “Getta room!” Karkat flips him off, making him cackle.  
“Fuck you! You’re even less tolerable than Sollux!”  
“Thank you.” Kurloz grins, watching them with no small amount of amusement.  
“Let’s just burn this popsicle stand my brothers.” Gamzee says, and Karkat snorts.  
“It’s blow this popsicle stand, Gamzee.”  
“But we burnin’ it though, Kat.” Gamzee says, and Karkat smiles a little, rolling his eyes.  
“Alright, alright. Whatever.” Karkat takes a match out, and strikes it on the rough paper. It lights up, and Karkat throws it on the pile of furniture.

It catches fire quickly, and they all stand there watching it burn for a second. It’s hot enough to hurt where Kurloz is standing, though he doesn’t move until Gamzee takes him by the back of his collar and drags him back.  
“Be careful, yo.” He says gently. Kurloz straightens his hoodie out, giving Gamzee a look. “Whatever. Next time I won’t save your oblivious ass, howaboutit?”  
 _”You better stop hanging with Karkat so much, you’re getting rude.”_ Kurloz tells him, and he laughs.  
“Aw man. Maybe it’s a good thing, though. Not lettin’ people walk all over me.” The unspoken “like you” sits heavy on him, and he just blinks and looks back at the fire. “We shoulda brought some fuckin’ marshmallows!” Gamzee says, clapping a hand on his back. He jumps a little, and looks back at Gamzee as he’s drawn into a one armed hug. There was something … oh. He hadn’t noticed. Gamzee was taller than him now. He gives him a small smile. “Just burnin’ our dad’s shit, like normal, functional motherfuckers, huh?” Kurloz laughs quietly, making Gamzee smile wider. “One room down, whole fuckin’ house to go.”  
“Jesus fuck I don’t want to do all this with just the three of us.”  
“Four!” Mituna says, indignantly.  
“No offense, Mituna, but you can’t exactly do much.” Karkat says, and Mituna huffs, folding his arms. “It’s fine. I don’t care. It’s just a fact.”  
“We got a lotta old friends round these parts.” Gamzee says suddenly. “I mean hell. We just clearin’ rooms out an’ burnin’ shit, I know people be down to burn shit.”  
“What a weird invitation though.” Karkat mumbles.  
 _”Hey I know it’s been seven years but want to help us clear our abusive dad’s house out and burn all his furniture.”_ Kurloz signs, and Gamzee snickers.  
“When you put it like that, man … but I mean if we get some pizza and drinks-”  
 _”No alcohol.”_ Kurloz interjects quickly.  
“‘Course not. No. Just soda. Maybe some loud, that’s fine, right?”  
“Intoxicants and burning shit doesn’t mix. But I can text a few people. See who we can convince.” Karkat says. “For now let’s let this shit heap burn and go home and shower. I feel like I’m covered in bacteria previously unknown to biologists.” Gamzee laughs.  
“Aw man, I love your metaphors.”  
“That wasn’t a metaphor, dumbshit!” Karkat snaps, and Gamzee just laughs more. “Oh my god. It’s a miracle I never get tired of your shit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter two! three will be out shortly. these seem to be increasing in length exponentially!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> day two ... more people
> 
> this chapter contains a depiction of a meltdown, vague mentions of disordered eating, discussion of drug dependency, discussion of child abuse, and flashbacks to child abuse.

Kurloz’s phone is ringing, and he groans softly as he wakes up from his sleep to grab his phone. He misses a few times before snatching it, hitting accept call and holding it to his ear.  
“Hello?” He says, voice heavy with sleep.  
“Hey you, pretty boy!” He wakes up a little at the familiar voice of Damara. “You not tell me back in fucking town!” He laughs softly, and Mituna wakes up a little next to him.  
“Sorry Damz. It’s been a crazy month, believe it or not.” He says, and she clicks her tongue at him.  
“You not talk to me anymore. What am I, chopped kidney?”  
“It’s chopped liver, Damara.”  
“WhatEVER. Aradia tell me you need help trashing daddy’s house, yes?”  
“We’re cleaning it out. Burning furniture.”  
“Less fun. Still love a good fire.” Damara hums. “I not have your address. Give me it, now, thank you.” Kurloz laughs again, and Mituna holds his arm, pulling him back into a cuddle. He tells her the address, and he hears her scribbling it down. “Good. I drag Aradia over, yes? We have good time. Miss your pretty baby face.”  
“I’ve been on T for five years. I’m happy to say I don’t have baby face anymore.”  
“You always be little baby to me, dumb idiot boy. Never change. You be seventy and still baby. When we going to your dad house, hm?”  
“I’m probably gonna be there around noon but-”  
“I be there. See you, pretty boy!” She hangs up, and Kurloz slides his phone back onto the bedside table.  
“All good?” Mituna asks, laying his head on his chest. He nuzzles into his chest, and Kurloz swallows down the bolt of panic that goes through him.  
“Yeah, we’re good. Just Damara.” Kurloz tells him.  
“Good.” Mituna says. “Miss her.” Kurloz nods a little.  
“Me too.” He pets Mituna’s hair for a moment, and Mituna sighs softly. “Ready to get up?” Kurloz asks, and Mituna grumbles.  
“Fiiiine.” Kurloz gets up, and helps Mituna out of the bed. After making sure Mituna was steady on his feet, he picks up a sports bra, and Mituna frowns a little.  
“I don’ wan’ you t’hurt, Loz.”  
“I can’t be cleaning with my tits all over the fucking place.” He grumbles. “I did it yesterday, it sucked, I’ll be fine.”  
“...Okay…” Mituna relents, grabbing a shirt out of his bag.  
“I promise, Mituna. A sports bra is fine.” Kurloz says, trying to sound a little more gentle. He worried too much. It should really be Kurloz worrying about _him_ not the other way around.  
“I know. You just bruise easy.”  
“It’s cause I’m so fuckin’ pale, dude.” He tells him. Mituna giggles.  
“Yeah, y’are.” Kurloz throws a baggy shirt on, and just finishes changing into clean underwear when the door is unceremoniously thrown opened. Kurloz yelps and falls, startled.  
“Whoa! Sorry bro!” He hears Gamzee laugh.  
“Geddout!!!” Mituna yells. Kurloz pulls himself up, glaring at Gamzee. Mituna was freaking at the sudden intrusion, trying to push Gamzee out.  
“Whoa, whoa! Sorry! Just tryina wake y’all up!”  
“No!! Get out, no no no!” Mituna says. Kurloz ushers Gamzee out, who’s still laughing, and wraps Mituna in a hug. He’s still throwing a fit, but slowly he calms down, letting himself be held.  
“You good, lil bee?” Kurloz asks. He nods a bit.  
“...Sorry.”  
“Don’t gotta apologize. Shit be mad scary. I was startled too.”  
“Mmmm.” Mituna hums a little.  
“Why don’t you lay down a little. We’ll go clean for a bit and you can hang with Kankri when you feel up to it.”  
“Nooooooo, Kurloz!” He whines. “I’m useful! I can help!”  
“I’m not sayin’ you can’t, bee. Just sayin’ your day’s off on the wrong foot. Don’t you think it’d be better to lay down and cool off for a bit where it’s quiet and calm?” Mituna doesn’t say anything for a minute.  
“Will you be okay?” He asks quietly.  
“I’m always okay.” Mituna shakes his head no. “The Megido’s are gonna be there, and Gam and Karkat. And whoever else Karkat might have gathered up. Lots of people are gonna be there, it won’t feel so bad today.” Mituna falls quiet again.  
“Okay.” He says after a little bit. “Okay … I lay … I’ll lay down a bit.” He says, pulling away. Kurloz gives him a smile.  
“You can always call me, okay?” Mituna nods.  
“Y’should put your pants on.” He says, grinning a little.  
“Probably a good idea.” He grabs a pair of jeans and yanks them on, and grabs his wallet and phone. “Alright, I’m gonna go. Love you, bee.”  
“Y’too Lozzie.” Mituna says, sitting on the bed.  
“See you tonight, okay?” He says, and Mituna nods. He closes the door gently behind him.

Gamzee and Karkat pile into his truck, Gamzee sprawling out in the tiny backseat while Karkat buckles himself in firmly in the passenger seat. He sees Karkat test the strap to make sure he was in tightly, and he smiles a little. Karkat sees him looking and rolls his eyes.  
“Seatbelts are serious business, okay?” He snaps, and Kurloz holds his hands up placatingly. Karkat seems satisfied. “Can you pick some people up?” Kurloz raises an eyebrow, and gestures to the lack of space. “Yeah, I know, Dave and Dirk don’t give a shit. They’ll ride in the bed if you don’t care.” Kurloz shrugs. “Great. Turn right out on the main road…”

Karkat gives him directions to the Strider residence, and it doesn’t take long before he pulls up to the little garage looking place. He puts his truck in park, and Karkat climbs out, beelining to the door.  
“Haha, Karkat’s got a cute li’l crush on that Dave motherfucker y’know.” Gamzee tells him.  
“That’s sweet.” Kurloz replies, watching Karkat disappear inside. “They talkin’ like that, or just friends.”  
“Neither of ‘em are bold enough to ask the other motherfucker out, bro. Karkat talks big but he’s shyer ‘n you are.”  
“I’m not shy.” Kurloz says, irritated. “I have an anxiety disorder.”  
“Isn’t that just fancy for shy?’ Gamzee asks, drumming his fingers on the back of the seat.  
“No. Fuck you. One’s a personality trait, one’s a trauma based neurosis.”  
“Wow, looky who’s been doin’ some book readin’.” Kurloz rolls his eyes. “You know I’m just raggin’ on you, right?’  
“I’m not the most susceptible to friendly banter right now.” The door opens, and four people exit the building - two guys and one girl, with Karkat. Kurloz recognizes exactly zero of them. Karkat opens the passenger door.  
“Gamzee scoot your ass. Rose is coming and she doesn’t want to ride in the bed.” Gamzee dutifully scoots, and the girl opens the rear passenger door, and slides in.  
“Hello Kurloz, Gamzee. I’m Rose.” The girl holds a hand over the front seat, and Kurloz reaches back to shake. As he does, he feels the truck shift as the two guys climb into the bed. “I hear you don’t talk much. Should be a refreshing change of pace with this crew.” He grins a little, turning back to start the truck up again. “And Gamzee. Good to meet you in person. Usually I hear about you through the grapevine.”  
“Haha, yeah, motherfuckers love to talk, huh?” He asks, and he sees Gamzee shake her hand in the rearview mirror, and the two guys getting settled. He backs out carefully, and they pull out of the parking lot.

Kurloz shuts the door to his truck firmly, and everyone starts climbing out. Gamzee stretches lazily, and it’s only because Kurloz _knows_ him that he recognizes the wariness on his face, looking over the house like it’s about to attack him.  
“Yo. Sup.” Kurloz turns from staring at Gamzee to look at the two guys. The older one holds his hand out to him. “I’m Dirk. This is Dave. Heard this is yer old man’s place, huh?” He asks. Kurloz nods. “Not so many happy memories, I guess.” Kurloz tilts his head. He didn’t really want to discuss this with him, a stranger in every regard.  
“We just wanted to tell you … we get it man. We’re here to help.” The younger one chimes in.  
“Thanks guys. We appreciate y’all.” Gamzee comes up behind him, clapping a hand on his shoulder and making him flinch. “Sorry ‘Loz. My bro don’t talk much t’strangers, sorry.”  
“So I’ve heard. It’s fine.” Dirk says, waving a hand breezily. Kurloz gives him a small smile.  
“Hey! Assholes! This shit show won’t clean itself up!” Karkat yells from the door. Rose leans against the door frame, looking at Karkat with amusement.  
“Better go appease Karkat before he blows a fuse.” Dave says, but he’s smiling a little. Dirk looks impassive.  
_”Damara said she would be coming.”_ Kurloz signs rapidly to Gamzee. He feels the three newcomers eyes on him as he signs, and he feels slightly self conscious. What was wrong with him that his father's insistence on silence still follows him, enough so that it _hurts_ to talk to new people, makes him shaky and upset even with the nicest of people.  
“She’ll be here any minute. You wanna wait outside for her while we get this started?” He nods. “Alright bro. Maybe you can order the pizza too while you wait.” He nods again, and they all head back inside, leaving him to lean against his truck alone.

He pulls his phone out and opens up the site for the only place that delivered this far out of town. At least Jet’s was decent. He is absolutely unsure how much pizza it would take to feed this many people, and he hesitantly orders five cheese pizzas and three Sprites. That was good … right? How much did normal people that were not him eat? He types his card information in slowly, and slides his phone back into his back pocket. At least that was settled. He lays his head back against the glass of his window, looking up at the clear blue sky. A few wispy clouds floated by, buffeted by the strong breeze. The last autumn he spent here was his senior year in highschool. He’d forced himself to finish out the year before leaving the very next day. Moving in with Mituna’s family was interesting … they were all very nice about the situation, but he was eager to leave. And he did, for better or worse. Got his own place. Gamzee moved out to California with Karkat, and was happy. Kurloz stayed in Washington and stagnated. Didn’t get better. Didn’t move on. Didn’t succeed. And that was fine.

He’s shaken out of the memory as a beat up, cherry red sports car trundles down the road. He can’t help but smile as the car pulls in behind his truck, and Damara steps out. She’s just as pretty as he remembered, long hair tied up into a heavy-looking ponytail that hangs down to her hips, now.  
“Oh, look who it is! My prettiest boy!” Damara says cheerfully, walking over to him and hugging him. She’s not in her usual heels, and she only comes up to his chin. “How is Kurloz, hm? Good now that bastard dead, I bet.”  
“It’s … complicated, Damz.” He murmurs, and she nods a little.  
“Everything always complicated. Harsh truth. We’ll pull through, like always.” The passenger door opens, and her little sister steps out. Where Damara likes to stay pressed and clean, Aradia is constantly running around looking like she crawled out of a trash heap. She waves to him.  
“Hey Kurloz!” She says, and she gives him a big hug too. He hugs her back, and she pulls away after a second. “I hear we’re trashing the place?”  
“No trash. Just burn furniture, yes? They sell house.” Damara pulls a pack of cigarettes and a lighter out of her pocket, tapping one out and offering one to him.  
“No, I quit.” He says quietly. She grins.  
“Proud of you. You just quit cigarettes? Or other things?” He nods a little.  
“I’m off the pills too. No Xanax, no Oxy. Clean.” Her grin gets wider.  
“Look at you. I’m so proud.” She says, lighting her cigarette up. “Making self some kind of normal now.”  
“I suppose.” He scratches his arm a little. “This whole situation has made me regret it, though.”  
“No. no regrets. You do what right for you. Being clean is right.” Damara says firmly.  
“Yeah, Kurloz. I know it’s comfortable to go back to old habits, but it’ll never fix you.”  
“I know. I know, I know, okay.” He says, folding his arms tightly against himself.  
“You look good. Healthy. But too skinny, look at you.” Damara pokes his stomach, and he frowns. “You look better since HRT. Less pretty boy. More hot boy. Yeah?” She grins, sidling up to him. His frown softens. “Kurloz likes being told he handsome. I know.” Damara boops his nose.  
“Everyone likes being told they’re good looking, Damara.” She leans in to whisper in his ear.  
“Not what I mean, you know.” She bites his earlobe, and he hisses and pulls away, making her giggle.  
“Don’t be mean to Kurloz!” Aradia laughs. “Come on, guys, let’s get going! I bought marshmallows for the furniture roast.”  
“That safe?” Damara muses as they all head inside.

Kurloz props the door open as the Megido’s stepped in, and Damara taps ashes out on the floor.  
“Already empty living room?” She asks, moving out of the foyer and into said room. Damara trails after her.  
“Yeah. Yesterday we burned everything in here. I don’t know where they moved to now.”  
“We’re in the kitchen!” Comes Karkat’s voice, followed by a smash. He glances at Damara, who shrugs, and they all go into the kitchen.

Another smash rings through the sun-lit kitchen, as Gamzee throws a plate at a wall and it explodes. Aradia cheers.  
“Fuck yeah! Anarchy!” She takes a plate off the counter and power bombs it on the tile.  
“Nice one, sister.” Gamzee says, grinning easily.  
“This is stupid.” Karkat growls, facepalming. “We can’t just throw it away, no, we have to break it first.”  
“Looks like fun.” Damara says, looking amused.  
“It’s kind of a great image. This house would be excellent for my project.” Dave says.  
“What’s your project?” Aradia asks. He mimes taking a picture.  
“Broken homes. Need a better title, though.”  
“No, that’s good.” Karkat butts in. He and Dave both blush, and Damara snorts, taking a drag on her cigarette. “What?” Karkat snarls.  
“Oh, just thinking how cute it is to be little and in love.” She says, gesturing with her cigarette in hand.  
“We’re not in love!” Karkat barks, turning red up to his ears.“Whatever, break more dishes.” Damara casually pushes a stack of them to the floor, where they make a cacophonous shattering noise. She grins.  
“That’s the spirit.” Dirk says, leaning against the stove and looking amused.  
“Wait wait wait! I have an idea!” Aradia announces, and bolts out of the house. Silence falls.  
“Soooo, who’re you guys.” Dirk asks.  
“Damara. Aradia. Demolition experts.” Damara says. “The pleasure is all yours.”  
“Detecting a bit of an accent there.” Damara rolls her eyes.  
“You too, cowboy.” She says, narrowing her eyes. “Who you?”  
“The name’s Dirk. Strider. This is Dave.” He jerks a thumb to his younger brother.  
“I’m Rose. Nice to meet you.”  
“I’m Gamzee.” Gamzee says.  
“I already know you, Gamzee!” Damara snaps, exasperated. Karkat laughs.  
“Oh shit, right.” Gamzee shrugs a little. “My bad.” The door is kicked open, and Kurloz barely keeps from bolting at the noise.  
“IIIIIII HAVE SPRAY PAINT!” Aradia yells. She reenters the room, wielding two cans of, yep, spray paint. “Target practice time!” She starts spraying a bullseye on the wall before anyone can react. Kurloz can’t help but grin at the idea of it, and he knows Damara is equally thrilled.  
“We have to redo the house, guys, come on!” Karkat protests.  
“Yeah, we gotta wash ‘n’ paint everything anyway!” Gamzee says cheerfully. “Let’s have some fun!” Aradia opens one of the cupboards and grabs a cup, weighing it for a moment. After considering it, she launches it at the fresh bullseye. It cracks against the outer edge and falls to the floor, and she cheers.  
“Fuck yeah.” Damara says, and Aradia tosses a cup to Kurloz. He catches it without thinking, surprising himself.  
“Your turn big boy.” She says, and he chews on the back of one of his lip piercings, thinking. “What? It’s not like you’re gonna get in _trouble_.” Aradia adds, and he tilts his head. She was right. He could do whatever he wanted, with anything in this shitty, godforsaken house, and no one, absolutely no one, would tell him no, or hit him, or _ever hurt him again_.

He launches the cup at the bullseye and almost nails the middle, making it shatter brilliantly. He grins.  
“My turn, give!” Damara insists, and Aradia tosses her a cup as well. Dirk grabs a cup too, seeming to consider his options. Damara’s a straight shooter, nailing the middle from across the kitchen, and Dirk’s cup shatters in almost the same spot as hers, a moment after.  
“Point for me.” Dirk says, smirking to himself.  
“No one’s keeping track of dish darts.” Aradia says, and Gamzee aims for the bullseye and misses. It lands outside of the lines, but Aradia still cheers. “Fuck yeah! Go crazy!”

With that, everyone seems to get into it, even Dave and Karkat after a moment. It’s loud, and fun, and ridiculous. Three things that never coexisted in this house before. Kurloz finds himself laughing and relaxing, in his dad’s house. It feels uncanny to have a good time, here, of all places. Eventually they exhaust the dishes, and they’re all standing, laughing, shards of glass crunching beneath their shoes.  
“Oh my god, we have to sweep all of this up.” Karkat groans, but there’s laughter behind his complaint. Dave leans against him a little, smiling.  
“Uh, shit, I think dad kept the broom up in this closet in the hall. One sec, y’all.” Gamzee disappears for a minute.  
“We should drag this table out first. Bet it’ll burn up good.” Dirk says, knocking against the kitchen table. It’s still covered in beer cans.  
“Let me get the garbage bag first.” Karkat says, before Dirk unceremoniously picks up one side of the table and dumps all of the trash on the floor. They all watch it clatter silently, before Damara snickers.  
“If garbage all on floor, easy to pick up. And since everything garbage…” She pushes another pile of trash to the floor, letting it crash.  
“Heathens, all of you!” Karkat groans, rubbing his temple.  
“I don’t know, Karkat. She has a point, don’t you think?” Rose asks, knocking a pile near her to the floor. Gamzee steps back in.  
“Whoa, guys. Gettin’ crazy without this motherfucker truly? I’m wounded.”  
“Stop knocking trash on the floor!” Karkat yells.  
“There’s already glass everywhere, man. Why not?” Dave says, rubbing his arm a little. He relaxes, and then crosses his arms.  
“You’re all intolerable. I’m grabbing the cleaning supplies and starting in on the living room. I’m gonna need a spatula to get all of the smoke residue off the walls” He announces.  
“I can help, Kat.” Dave says, and they both leave the room.  
“Let me have this.” Rose says, taking the broom. “Dirk, you and Kurloz should start dragging out whatever can be burned.”  
“Pretty sure that’s just the table, Rosie.” Dirk says. Rose stares at him as she uses the broom to clear one of the countertops completely.  
“Then get to it, Dirk.” She says, impassive. Damara laughs.  
“I like you. Spicy girl. Tell me, you have boyfriend? Girlfriend?” Rose gives her a smile.  
“I do, actually, have a girlfriend. I’ll let you know if that changes.” Kurloz shakes his head a little, smiling, and grabs one half of the heavy table. Dirk grabs the other side, and they carry it outside.

It’s clumsy and difficult to get it through the door, but eventually they toss it on the ashes of yesterday’s fire.  
“If we want a good burn, we’ll have to clear out a few more rooms.” Dirk says, and Kurloz snorts, looking away from Dirk. He can’t believe this is happening. That they’re really throwing out everything in the house. He kicks one of the legs of the upturned table, nudging it a little. “Is there anything worth keeping in this place?” Dirk asks, and Kurloz hesitates. He wondered if his room had stayed the same, or if their dad had done something with it. Dirk seems to sense his hesitation, and nods to himself. “You just let us know if you need a second, or anything. Tell us when to halt the demolition team.” Kurloz nods a little. “Ready to go in?” He nods again, sparing the table another glance before heading back inside.

Rose has gathered up most of the floor debris, and Damara is in the process of clearing the fridge out.  
“This a lotta fuckin’ alcohol. And ready meals. Sad man.” Damara says, dumping the cans away.  
“You’re just throwin’ perfectly good beer away?” Dirk asks.  
“Yes. Kurloz no drink. Gamzee no drink. What, you want drink dead bastard’s alcohol?” She asks.  
“When you put it that way…” Dirk says, and Rose ties off the construction bag.  
“Dirk, take this to the truck.” Dirk grumbles, but takes the bag, making his way outside. “Gamzee, how about you take over for Damara, and Aradia, you can start unplugging the electronics.”  
“Like the oven and all?” Aradia asks.  
“Of course.We’re getting rid of everything, right? We’ll take it to the dump.” Rose says dismissively. “We’ll move it to the front hall, and then Dirk and Dave can load it into the truck. Or anyone who can lift, it doesn’t matter.” Aradia gives a salute, and busies herself trying to figure out how to unhook the oven.  
“Where I go, hm?” Damara asks, sidling up to Rose. “Pretty girl? Boss me around, now?” Rose seems more amused than perturbed at Damara’s flirting.  
“Why don’t you and Kurloz pick a room and start picking it up.” She says.  
“Oh fun. Well pretty boy? Where we go?” She asks. He shifts, trying to think. There were a lot of rooms in this house - most of them were unused, or he wasn’t allowed to be in. “Didn’t know such a hard question.” Damara says, and he scowls, flipping her off. It makes her cackle. He snatches a roll of garbage bags and walks down the hall, Damara trailing behind him.

He stands in the middle of the space, uncertain. At the end of the hall is his dad’s room. And he wasn’t totally willing to go there yet. And he especially wasn’t ready to go upstairs, to see his room. Even the thought of it made him feel sick. Damara’s eyes flick over him, and she puts a hand on his arm.  
“Tell me what thinking, Kurloz.” She says gently, and his eyes go to hers. He holds eye contact for less than a second before looking back at the hallway.  
“I don’t want to touch the bedrooms yet.” He says softly. “Can we clean out the dining room, maybe?”  
“Sound good.” Damara pulls his arm, and gathers him into a hug. “Look how strong you are, Kurloz.”  
“I’m not. I’m pathetic. I’m scared of a fucking room.”  
“Shut up. Not just a fucking room. This where he hurt you.” She says, gently. “It will be okay, Kurloz. I promise.” He takes a shaky breath.  
“Let’s get this over with.”  
“Okay beautiful boy.” She stands on her toes to kiss his cheek, and then pulls away, still holding his hand. “This way, yes?” She asks, pulling him toward the dining room. He follows her in, and they look around, trying to decide where to start. “Lots of box.” She comments, eyebrow raised. It was true, this room had never been used for much more than storage, heavy boxes filled with garbage on top of a heavier table. “Know what is in these?”  
“Dad’s garbage. Some of my grandparent’s stuff.” He says.  
“You close to grandparents?”  
“No. Never met them.” He replies, opening up a box. It’s filled with notebooks and paper, something that was more likely than not to be just trash. “We should trash the contents and burn the boxes.”  
“Ooh. Fun time.” Damara says, coming up next to him. “This paper?”  
“Yeah.”  
“Here.” She opens a garbage bag up, and holds it out. “Dump, yes?” He picks the box up, disrupting the dust, and tips it all into the garbage bag. One box down, twenty-ish to go.

They were at it for about fifteen minutes before there’s a knock on the doorframe.  
“Hello? I have the pizzas you ordered.” Someone calls, and Kurloz ducks out into the foyer. The pizza guy jumps in surprise at the sudden appearance. “God, you scared me.” The kid mumbles, seeming fairly sullen. Kurloz digs his wallet out of his pocket, trying to get a tip for the kid. After a moment he realizes he’s left the kid just standing there with the pizzas and soda. He gestures to the floor for him to set them down, which he does. He pulls a ten out of his wallet, and holds it to him. “Oh, thank you.” He takes the money, and as he’s pocketing it Kurloz picks the pizza up.  
“Holy fuck. Eridan?” He hears Karkat behind him, and he turns to look. The kid is similarly staring at Karkat.  
“Kar? I thought you moved to California! W-what are you doing here?” He waves his w’s in a way that made him seem on the verge of tears almost.  
“I did. I mean. I’m just here to help these two out. Their … dad died.”  
“Mr. Makara?” He asks, glancing at Kurloz. “He died?”  
“You knew that asshole?”  
“W-well … Yeah. He and my dad talked sometimes. They didn’t like each other much.” He shifts uncomfortably.  
“Speaking of your dad, I thought he had you set for life. What are you doing dragging around pizzas?”  
“He w-was a … traditional guy. Some of our ideals clashed.” Eridan folds his arms. “Kicked me out. I’m living with Cro now.”  
“Huh.” Karkat says. “I’m … sorry. That sucks.”  
“It happens. W-well … w-while you’re here, maybe w-we … could hang out sometime?” He asks.  
“I think I’d like that.”  
“Karkat? What’s happening, thought there was pizza.” He hears Dave come out of the living room and watches as he puts his arm around Karkat’s shoulders. Eridan’s eyes widen ever so slightly, and Kurloz feels very much uncomfortable watching this teen drama unfold in front of him.  
“I should be going. Good to see you, Karkat, um. Text me.” And the kid is gone. Kurloz holds the pizzas out to Dave, who takes them, and he picks up the soda. He gestures toward the kitchen. Dave takes the que, and they both head in.

It seems at this point it has been near sufficiently cleared out. The unplugged electronics sit in the middle of the kitchen, waiting to be dragged out and loaded into the truck, along with several garbage bags full of stuff. Rose is clearing out the cupboards underneath the sink, while Aradia is climbing on the counters and shooting three pointers into the garbage bag with the bottles of spices from the upper cupboards.  
“Ayyy, pizza!” Aradia cheers, hopping down. “Hell yeah!”  
“Excellent. I was feeling a little hungry.” Rose adds. Dave sets the boxes down on the counter, and mumbles something about cleaning before going back into the living room. Karkat follows him.  
“Food here now?” Damara asks from behind, wrapping her arms around him. He straightens a little, but forces himself to relax. He just nods. “Mm. I dump last box. You eat now?” He shakes his head. “Okay. You take box pile move to fire pile beautiful boy.” She lets him go, and he moves away, following her direction. The boxes are all stacked haphazardly in the corner, and he picks up a few, as many as he could grab with his hands, and heads for the back door. The floorboards shift under his weight as he steps out onto the porch, sliding the door shut silently.

It’s quiet out here, and it’s what he didn’t realize he needed. He felt like he was on some kind of shitty emotional rollercoaster. Scared, happy, guilty, nervous, confused. He’d landed firmly in “upset”. He sets the boxes down under the table, along with several other small pieces of furniture someone had dragged out here while he was busy. By the end of the day they’d have a big bonfire for sure. He looked away, eyeing the marshy woods around the house. When he was a kid, that was where he would go. To try to escape. He’d stopped as he got more jaded, more accepting of his place. He really had just … accepted his life. Bent to what his dad wanted him to be. Still was, in some was. He was silent, compliant. When he saw a therapist she said he had a … submissive personality. An inevitable result from how he was treated as a child.

The door slides open, startling him from his reverie. Gamzee stands on the porch, and waves to him.  
“Hey! Mituna’s here! Kankri brought ‘im, said he was gettin’ worked up worryin’ about you!” Kurloz smiles a little bit, heading back inside. Gamzee claps him on the shoulder as he walks past, and he flinches. “Shit dude. Sorry. Can’t believe you still be so damn jumpy.” Kurloz doesn’t respond to that, just closes his eyes and sighs before moving past him.

Mituna’s buzzing around the living room, bothering Karkat and Dave it seems. The two Striders put him on edge. They’re impassive. How could he know if they were unhappy? Angry? It was risky. He’s pulled from his head by a tackle hug. He catches Mituna clumsily, and Mituna laughs.  
“I KNOW y’said stay home but I gotta bein’ so worried bout you, Lozzie!” Kurloz just buries his face in Mituna’s hair. “You’re not mad? Right?” He shakes his head. “Good. Good! I brought Kranki.”  
“I’m beginning to suspect you pronounce my name like that on purpose.” He hears Kankri sniff with distaste. Mituna pulls away from Kurloz to look at Kankri, head tilted a little.  
“It is kinna fundy. Funny.” Mituna says, grinning.  
“I KNEW it. You are intolerable.” Kankri snaps, folding their arms over their chest.  
“You gots to be nice to me Kankri, I gotta disorder.” Mituna is the picture of innocence, and Kankri narrows their eyes.  
“I am aware, Mituna.” They sniff, and look around the room. “Well. This place certainly did need to be cleaned up.”  
“That’s why we’re doing it, Kankri.” Karkat interjects, hands on his hips. “Are you gonna help, or stand around looking like you have a stick jammed into your colon?”  
“I don’t have to take that from you! You are so-”  
“Don’t.” Karkat presses his hand over their mouth, making them get even more mad. “Are you going to help? Yes or no.” He lifts his hand.  
“Fine. I’ll help.” Kankri snaps. “Lord knows you probably need me, I mean, who’s in charge here? I suppose this is all totally unorganized.”  
“I mean. It’s our house, my friend.” Gamzee interrupts. “So I suppose that makes me and Kurloz in charge. But we just be goin’ with the flow.” Kurloz eyes Gamzee, and knows that everyone in the room is too. He has a hard sort of edge to his voice that he gets when he’s particularly stressed. Everyone had their coping methods. Kurloz shut up and got compliant. Gamzee got angry and aggressive. Neither was healthy, but it’s how it is.  
“I wasn’t trying to imply you weren’t running this efficiently-”  
“But you did. It’s all good.” Gamzee gives an easygoing smile. “You good. Just kinda tired of all these implications that we can’t handle this. We’re doing it aren’t we? We came. We’re standing in here. And we gettin’ the job done. Don’t need order. Don’t want control. Just gettin’ it done.” Kankri folds their arms close to their body.  
“You’re in my space, Gamzee.” They say, and Gamzee holds his hands up, stepping back.  
“Just havin’ a friendly conversation. So we all be on the same page.” Suddenly Karkat is between them, making Gamzee back off more.  
“Gamzee. With me? Hallway?” He says, and Gamzee nods, following him out. Kankri still looks unsettled, and their eyes land on Kurloz.  
“So you’re just going to let him talk to me like that?” Kurloz blinks once. That was not how things operated here.  
_”I do not control him.”_ He signs simply, just looking at Kankri. Kankri sighs.  
“You don’t intervene either, is the thing.” They sigh.  
_”I’d like the examination of me and my brother’s dynamic to be reserved for later. I’m busy.”_ He leaves, passing Karkat and Gamzee in the hall, talking heatedly but quietly. He passes them by, not wanting to know what it was about. It wasn’t his business, and frankly, he didn’t like talking to Gamzee when he got like this. He reminded him too much of dad, made his mental shit worse. And he knew his own coping method made Gamzee even more upset. They couldn’t be around each other.

The rest of the day is a little tense, but they all end the day amicably. Kurloz has gone back and forth to the dump all day, and by the time they all stand around the burn pile the whole first floor is empty, with the exception of his dad’s bedroom. Kurloz stands in the dark kitchen, eyes lingering on the emptiness. It feels hollow, and eerily familiar yet not, like a troubling dream. His steps echo a bit as he steps around, eying the counter. There were so many … bad memories, in every room of this house. His father had broke his nose on that edge of the counter. Held him up against that wall by his throat. Pushed him into the table there. Hit him so hard his vision went out here. Upstairs … was worse. His room was something that was both comforting and terrifying. The hope of safety and the chance of pain.  
“Kurloz.” He flinches, eyes darting to the source of the voice. Mituna leans against the doorframe, looking at him sadly. “You ‘kay?”  
“I’m…” He clears his throat. “I don’t…” He can’t say he’s fine. He can’t say he’s on the verge of breaking down. He can’t cry here. He _can’t_ cry here! Mituna pulls away from the doorframe, and wraps him up in a hug.  
“You’re torture yourself. Being here. Just say can’t, we go back t’Washington. All good.”  
“But … I don’t ... I can’t leave Gamzee. I … Mituna you don’t _understand_.” His voice is so shaky it’s pathetic. He’s disgusting. A crybaby, a bitch. A stupid slut. Can’t control herself, good for nothing little cunt with no idea what the real world is like, all she can do is cry and cry and cry and wait for everyone else to get shit done.  
“Get outta y’head.” Mituna says sharply. He realizes he’s given in, and started crying. He’s so tense, he can’t stop the tears now and he’s waiting for the hit to come. “You don’t owe anyone anything, you know.”  
“I … I know.” He says, voice wobbly.  
“You say it, b’y’don’ know it.” Mituna squeezes him a little. “You try an’ make everyone happy. Are you happy? Loz? What do you want?” Kurloz gasps like he’s never had air before, trying to keep from crying. “You’re safe. Finally … tot’lly safe. What do you want to do?”  
“Cry.”  
“Then cry.” It’s like he was waiting for permission. He gives in to the urge to be weak, to break down, and he sobs into Mituna’s shoulder, crying for the little girl who didn’t know why daddy hurt her, why daddy would touch her. She was alone, and hurting. No one helped her at all, no. She was supposed to be strong. To protect her little brother. To stand between him and Gamzee, and take the hit.  
“It … hurt, s-so bad, Mituna.” He manages, and Mituna just holds him. “I never … I just wanted to feel loved. I just wanted t-to be good for him.”  
“He never dessert-fuck-deserved anyone as won’erful as you.” Mituna says, rubbing his back in a patternless fashion. “You were jus’ a baby. And it’s not your fault. You never did anything wrong.”  
“I was born. I existed … to disappoint him.” He chokes out.  
“No! No. No, you … you were good. He … was the diss’pointment.” Mituna insists. “He FAILED you. Hurt you. You are … have always been … good. Good person. You care. He was wrong. Always. Nothing could have fixed him.”  
“I never tried hard enough to-”  
“You tried. Again an’ ‘gain an’ he never cared. Only hurt. You still try. But now … he’s gone. An’ you’re safe. Loved. You have people who loooove you. You undersand? Understand?” Kurloz nods tinily, trying to wipe away his tears a little. “I’know you … an’ I know people love you for you. How funny you are, so quick on a joke. How much you care. How hard you try to do good. People love you.”  
“I know. I know.” He says softly, voice rough from crying.  
“You c’n cry. Don’t make yourself stop. It’s okay, y’need to cry.”  
“No I … I’m done. I don’t w-want to.” He pulls away, shuffling awkwardly. His arms fold over his chest, holding himself tightly. “I’m done.”  
“Done crying or … done fixin’ th’house.”  
“Done crying.” He says. His voice is still unsteady, but he means what he says. “I can do this. I can fix this garbage house and sell it. It’s fine.” Mituna’s mismatched eyes scan him, but he just nods.  
“‘Kay.” He glances behind him, out the backdoor. “Wanna do marchmallows?” Kurloz follows his eyeline, seeing everyone gathered around the bonfire in the fading light. The flames are big, turning everything to ash inside it.  
“Sure.” He says softly. He flips his hoodie up as they step out, and Gamzee glances at the two of them. He waves a little.  
“Ay! Kurloz!” He shouts, drawing everyone’s attention.  
“Oh! I’ve got marshmallows with your name on them!” Aradia calls in a sing song, and he smiles a little.  
Maybe everything really was going to be alright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is probably gna turn into rare pair city soon tbh


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> some time with damara, kankri pisses kurloz off, a lot of time trapped in the hellscape known as "the mind". yo that makes it sound dark. i promise it's not that bad. or at least, not bad for a fic about recovering from parental abuse. 
> 
> this chapter contains flashbacks to child sexual abuse, with nothing explicit, and mentions of disordered eating and self harm.

Kurloz’s body aches.

His back aches. His head aches. His feet ache. And he would kill for a cigarette.

He dunks the scrub brush back into the water briefly before pulling it out, letting the water slosh on the floor a bit, and setting back into the wall. Karkat and Dave had cleaned the living room, and now the whole first floor had to be scrubbed and cleaned. It wasn’t so bad … the smell was nice. Clean. Kind of a piney scent. It was easy to see where he had already scrubbed, the buildup made the off-white walls a gross yellow-ish color, and the difference was crazy. Half of the hall actually looked liveable.  
“Ugh. This boring.” Damara groans. Kurloz glances over at her end of the hall. She’s made less progress than him, it seems.  
“You didn’t have to come. Nobody else did.” He points out. She purses her lips.  
“That is why I come. Didn’t want you be alone.” She says after a moment. It was just the two of them today. Karkat had bailed at the last second, and his friends couldn’t come. Mituna’s head was killing him, and Gamzee had mumbled something about “taking care of something”.  
So it was just them.  
“I appreciate it … at least progress is being made.” He scrubs at the wall again. “I can make it up to you with a nice dinner if you want.”  
“Mm, yes, do want. Rich boy now, yes?”  
“It’s not really my money, though.”  
“Yes. Is. Silly boy.” She flicks water at him, and it falls very short. “You are rich.”  
“...Weird, thinkin’ about that.” He says eventually. They slowly move closer as they work.  
“Can imagine, yes. Plans? What you doing with money?” She asks.  
“Top surgery. As soon as I can. And … I need a new truck. Something decent. And … I don’t know. A nice house?” She laughs softly. “What?”  
“You are cute.” She smiles at him. “I miss you when you are gone.”  
“I missed you too, Damz.”  
“I think you need to … think big. You have all money you need. So what you do? Whatever you want most in whole world.”  
“I…” He pauses, looking at the wall where he’s stopped scrubbing. “I’m not sure yet Damara. Really.”  
“If I have money, I go to Japan.” She says, scrubbing determinedly at the wall. “I miss home. Want to see again.”  
“Maybe we should go.” He suggests, and she glances at him.  
“Yeah? You want?”  
“It sounds like fun … I mean, I’ve never really been outta the states. Maybe we could travel more, too.” Damara has a little smile on her face.  
“That is nice idea. Like it.” She tells him. “I hope you stay around here. I like having you close.”  
“I forgot how much I liked having you close.” She giggles.  
“How you forget me? I am amazing, yes?”  
“You are. I’m just an idiot.”  
“I know. But still love you.” He hears her drop her brush into the water, and he looks over at her as she walks towards him, sinking down next to him on the floor. “Why we not clear out room today?”  
“Because … my dad’s room is the only one left on this floor. And I … I’m not ready to go upstairs.”  
“What about down the stairs?”  
“That was my dad’s area, still. It’s probably still triple locked.”  
“You never been down there?” Kurloz hesitates, putting his own scrub brush down.  
“I have been … a few times. I mean. I…” He glances down the hall, in the direction of the stairs.  
“We go. I want see.” Damara stands and takes his hand, pulling him up.  
“No, Damara, I don’t … I don’t want to.” He says quickly, staying firmly in place. She lets go of his arm and stares at him, hands on her hips.  
“If you never push self, how you expect getting over this?” She asks, and he sighs softly, closing his eyes. “You know I understand what is like to be hurt by someone supposed to care.” She says. “I know you need to face this house, show it who is the boss.” He studies her  
“I still don’t want to push this.” He says after a moment. “I’m like … fuck, Damara, I’m gonna sound like some kind of lame english major here but it feels like I’m rotting. And I’m just … kind of staying together. And pushing at this is going to make me collapse. I don’t even think I’m going to be able to finish the house.”  
“You will.” She says, firmly. “You will stay, finish house. This good for you.”  
“How can it be good if I’m constantly on the verge of breaking down?” Kurloz asks her, voice harsh. She just levels a cool look at him. “...Sorry.”  
“I am not upset.” She says softly. “Recovery not easy. Not always feel good. In the end you are strong. You are rotting? We will repair. You are not alone anymore.” He’s not going to cry. Absolutely not. He doesn’t trust himself to do more than nod once, and she smiles gently. “Can we see down the stairs?” He nods a little, and pulls the key ring out of his pocket. He hated this thing, but every room that had a door would be locked, with the possible exception of Kurloz and Gamzee’s rooms. Damara takes the ring from his hands and offers her free hand, which he takes.

She pulls him over to the stairs, and Kurloz looks at them like they might attack. At the bottom is the door, exactly like he remembered it. He takes a deep breath, looking to Damara.  
“Doing good.” She says, moving past him to unlock the deadbolts. They fall open with a dull metallic sound as she unlocks them.

_Thud._  
_Thud._  
_Thud._

He’s not him anymore. He’s her. Looking up at her father silently as he tells her she’s a special girl, and she has to be very quiet and not tell Gamzee she gets to see his workshop. She doesn’t understand why it’s a big deal, but daddy never liked it when she asked questions, so she doesn’t. She just nods a little. He ushers her in and locks the door behind them.

_Thud._  
_Thud._  
_Thud._

“Kurloz.” Damara snaps her fingers in front of his face, and he flinches. “Okay? Still with me?”  
“Yes.” His voice is so soft it’s almost soundless, but’s the best he can do right now.  
“...Okay.” She says, taking his hand again. She opens the door and leads him in, leaving it wide open. “Wow. This like whole house.” Damara says, looking around. The hall is dimly lit like he remembers, devoid of any furniture. Every door is firmly closed, and most of them he doesn’t know where they lead to. Damara tries to open one of the doors, but it’s locked, and she spends a minute trying each key until she finds the right one.

It’s an unfinished area.

“Well. That is disappointment.” She glances around, but it’s just empty space with boxes and furniture tossed haphazardly at the far wall. “This anything?”  
“Not sure. Never been in here.” He says, moving past her. He’d never been hurt here. It made him relax ever so slightly.  
“What are box? Old garbage?” She asks. Kurloz pads over, nudging one with his boot. It’s open, and as he shifts the contents his eyes widen, and he drops to his knees, going through the box. “What?”  
“It’s my old stuff.” He says, voice regaining some of its sound. “It’s … it’s stuff he took away from me.” He hears Damara walk over, and crouch down next to him. She makes a soft noise, pulling a doll out of the box. It wasn’t pretty. Kurloz remembered having a habit of mutilating his barbie dolls, pretending they hurt one another and cried and he scribbled on them with marker and cut their hair off. He wasn’t allowed dolls after his first grade teacher saw him playing with them like that and talked to his father about it.  
“You do this?” She asks.  
“Um. Yeah.” He shifts away a bit, looking awkward.  
“You hate dolls huh?”  
“No. I loved playing with my dolls. That one I … That one was me when I played house.” Damara looks at it again, and then into the box.  
“Oh.” She sets the doll down gently. “All are messed up?”  
“I know. That’s just. What I did. My dad took them away because my teacher told him I was … mutilating them and stuff. Said it was a sign of abuse, and wanted to know if … someone in my life was hurting me.” He laughs softly, though it isn’t funny.  
“What he say?”  
“I don’t know. I can’t remember that exactly. I just remember him getting mad at me.” Kurloz says softly, picking up the one Damara set down. He brushes the dark hair out of its face, which he’d scribbled all over. His heart hurts for the little girl this belonged to.  
“What else here?” Damara asks suddenly, digging through the box. She pulls out a pair of rollerskates. He sets the doll back in the box gently.  
“I pulled those out of someone’s trash. They were broken before I ever tried them but dad hated them.” He takes them gently, looking the ugly faded things over. “He didn’t like buying toys … and these were something I’d really wanted.”  
“Trash? Gross, dude.” Damara laughs. He smiles a little.  
“Yeah, I know. I was like six though. I didn’t care. I barely even cared they were broken ‘cause they looked cool.”  
“So cute. Baby Kurloz. You have baby pictures?” She asks. He shrugs.  
“Dad wasn’t one for pictures. Might … I mean, my mom might have some somewhere. But she was only around ‘til I was three.”  
“So you never have picture taken as kid?” A shiver runs up his spine and he straightens up, pulling away from the box.  
“Let’s go clear a different room.” She glances at the box.  
“Okay.” She stands and dusts herself off, following him out. They leave the door open.

“What in here?” She asks, tapping on a closed door.  
“Alcohol, I’m … pretty sure. Wine and shit.” He says.  
“Mm. And this?” She points to the other door in that hall. He follows her direction, staring at the door.  
_”My dad’s studio.”_ He manages to sign after a second, eyes locked on it. Damara is very still, thinking over what she wanted to do.  
“Can I go in?” She asks.  
“I don’t want to go.” His voice sounds small to himself.  
“Don’t have to. I go.” She says gently. “Just want to see. Okay?” He nods slowly, and she studies him for another moment before turning back to the door. He hears her swear softly as she struggles with the keys, but she eventually finds the right one. She searches for the light and flicks it on, disappearing inside.

After a long moment, he can hear Damara muttering angrily in Japanese. His Japanese was worse than her English, but he could understand a little.  
“ _Bastard man. Horrible_ … Kurloz!” The door opens wider and Damara steps out. “Art?”  
_”He still has them, then.”_  
“Yes.” Neither of them need to acknowledge what “them” was. “Why? Had to … keep like that?”  
_”I don’t know.”_ His chest hurts, and he knows he’s about to cry.  
“These are so sad.”  
_"I was a sad kid. Guess he … reflected that in his art.”_  
“This not art. Just child porn.” Damara says coldly.  
_“I know.”_ He brings himself to move, going over to the doorway. Damara steps aside, but he just stands in the doorway, looking around. Art supplies were everywhere, no real method to the organization. Drawings littered the walls, mostly pencil sketches, some watercolors. Almost all of them of him. There were … other scenes. The creek outside. Wildlife. Some that must be his mom. But a lot were her. Him. Through the years.  
“You want me to clean this alone?” Damara asks softly. His eyes dart around the room. He can track his own growth, from four to seventeen. “Kurloz.”

“This was where he took me when … when he first started.” He says eventually. His voice is barely a whisper as he forces himself to talk. Damara falls silent. “I … He showed me this room.” He steps in, footsteps quiet on the tiled floor. Damara watches him move. “And I … Sat on this chair.” He holds onto the back of a bar stool, spun to face the center of the room. He remembered being so little his feet didn’t even reach the first footrest. He had folded his hands in his lap and swung his feet back and forth slowly, watching his father gather a few things up. “He said he wanted to paint me.” He spins the stool around, making it face the wall. “Told me to sit still. That if I was good we would do something extra special. I just wanted to be good for him.”

_Her dad put his hands on her gently._  
_“Why don’t we take your dress off, baby?” Kurloz frowned._  
_“But…” Her dad’s hands were already tugging the thin straps down her shoulders. “Daddy…” She whined, and he frowns. She shuts up immediately._  
_“All of the best artists use nude models. You know your mother … she used to model for me.” Kurloz hesitates. “It’s just in the way, darling. Don’t you want your surprise for doing what you’re told?” Kurloz wiggles a little, hesitantly undressing for him. It’s cold in the room, and she hides behind her hair a little as she hugs herself._

“And he raped you.” 

_Her dad's hand were all over her, close, too close, but she’d never felt more alone than in that moment. She didn’t know anything about what he was doing, all she knew was that it felt weird to touch him, even though he said it was okay._

Kurloz pauses for a moment, staring at one drawing in particular in front of him. He must have been fifteen, or at least a teenager. In it he sat at a window seat, looking out, wearing an open button-up shirt and a black bra and underwear. His dad even sketched the little scars on his sides and inner thighs. If he didn’t know who drew it, and who was in the picture, it would be a pretty little piece. 

He didn’t remember posing for that piece in particular, but he knew his dad liked to watch him sometimes. They were surrounded by nothing but the swamps a ways around the house, so sometimes he sat in his balcony like that. His dad must have caught him. The angle seemed like it could have been from his doorway. 

“I was so … confused…” He says softly. “I didn’t know why he wanted me to touch him like that.”  
“You were little, of course you didn’t.”  
“I did it though. He told me I … was a good kid. When he … finished … he let me pick what I wanted for dinner. Anything I wanted. We had pizza.”  
“Kurloz…” Damara’s voice is tight, and his eyes land back on her. “I am so sorry.” He looks away, studying the floor.  
“I just want to destroy all of this.” He says after a moment. He hears Damara move, and then a tearing noise. He looks up sharply, and watches as she starts tearing papers off the walls.  
“Getting rid of garbage. We get rid of all this. Right now.” She insists, balling papers up in her hands, holding them close to her as she gathers more up. 

It doesn’t take too long to rip them all down, and Damara looks at him with her hands full of paper. “Burn chair too. Come.” She stomps out of the room, and Kurloz has no choice but to grab the stool and follow her. 

He catches up to her outside, dumping the papers on the burn pile. She takes the stool from him too, throwing it on top. She then picks the gas can up, and hands it to him.  
“Burn it. Do it.” She says, insistently. He hesitates, but dumps gas on the pile, and recaps the can before moving it a safe distance away. When he comes back Damara presses her lighter into his hand. He gives her a nervous look, but she just pushes it towards him more insistently. His hand wraps around it, taking it from her. “Go ahead.” He steps away from her toward the fire, and kneels. The papers catch quickly, and Damara pulls him back a little. “Careful.” 

They watch it burn in absolute silence, all the way down until it was nothing but ashes and metal struts from the chair. Damara takes his arm and hugs it, watching the embers fade.  
“What you feel?”  
“Nothing.” He says. “I don’t … This doesn’t change what he did.”  
“Not supposed to change it. Nothing change what happens in past.” He stays quiet. It’s barely halfway through the day, but he doesn’t want to be here anymore. He doesn’t want to go back.  
“I want to go.” She looks up at him. “I just … can’t be here right now. Please.”  
“Okay.” She pets his arm a little. “Where you want to go?”  
“I don’t care.” She tilts her head.  
“Okay.” 

The place Damara takes him would not have been his first choice, if their positions were reversed.  
Damara presses a roll of quarters into his palm, grinning widely.  
_"The arcade was an interesting choice."_ He signs, making her laugh.  
“I miss when we play here together!” She tells him. “Remember? All we could do is play game and charades. I do no sign, you speak no Japanese.” Kurloz grins a little.  
_"That was fun, wasn’t it."_  
“Of course! Now, I bet I still better at skeeball.” She’s so obviously delighted at doing this, and Kurloz finds himself in the same position. “Come! We play. Have fun.” She takes his hand, and drags him over to the machines.

She is, actually, still better at skeeball, but he's better at the claw machines. She pouts when he pulls the stuffed animal she wanted, but he just tosses it to her. She laughs.  
"You are a cheat. I like."  
_"All the carnival games are rigged. I've always had a knack for them."_  
"This is not carnival."  
_"Close enough. Rigged the same way. Like the ring games and all that. Same thing, just made to be automated. Taking good, hardworking scam artists jobs."_ He makes Damara cackle there, and his face heats, thrilled at making her laugh.  
"Next time carnival is in town, I call you. You still have ... flex thing. What is the word?" _"I'm hypermobile, yeah, that doesn't go away."_ He grins, flexing his elbow and bending it backwards a bit.  
"Yes, you belong at carnival, do you. Do gross arm thing. Do it." He raises an eyebrow. "It's good! Fun. Used to freak out other kids, I liked." He snorts, and obliges with her request to do the "gross arm thing". He raises his arms above his head and clasps them together, bringing them down evenly behind his back. After a moment he lets go, rolling his shoulders.  
_"It's not that impressive is it?"_  
"I cannot do, so it is." She giggles, and takes his arm in hers, leaning against him. It's frighteningly nice to be here with her, and his usual impulse to ruin everything good in his life doesn't come. "I want the big bear. Need lots of tickets. You play ring toss for me?" She smiles up at him, and there's nothing on Earth that'd make him say no. 

It’s late when they leave, and Damara has sufficiently distracted him from that morning’s events. They had parked a distance away, and they held hands as they walked down the block to their meter.  
“We still not have dinner.” Damara says, and he nods. “What you like, hm? Nine at night … some places still open.” He tilts his head, looking down the street. He shrugs. “Bar okay?”  
_"Should be fine.”_ He signs briefly. It was a Wednesday night, after all, it couldn't be too rowdy at a bar. 

Damara takes him down the street to a little hole in the wall place, moving him over to the back corner. He was mistaken to think that a bar in New Orleans would ever be quiet. Ever. He was still in a small town frame of mind. Damara slides him the menu, drawing his attention away from watching a man that was getting a little too close for comfort.  
“I know what I like. You look.” He opens the menu, glancing at it. Damara studies him. “You are still doing thing where you not eat?” He glances at her.  
_”I’m trying to get better._ He signs.  
“Good. Order lots, you are too thin. My hands can wrap around your waist and be touching!”  
_”Stop exaggerating.”_ He signs flippantly. _”I’m at 130 right now.”_ Damara shakes her head a little.  
“Yes see? I am 130, and I am foot shorter than you!” He shrugs a little.  
_”I’m trying, Damara.”_  
“I know.” She pauses. “You get this. It is good. Okay?” He makes a dismissive gesture, not looking at what it was. He didn’t really care. “So refreshing not to argue with people over everything.” Her gaze, however, is focused more over his shoulder at someone. He glances back, but before he can get a clear look, Damara grabs his chin and makes him look towards her. “Ex. Rufioh. Don’t look.”  
_”Wait. Does Rufioh work here?”_ He asks, narrowing his eyes.  
“Maybe.”  
_”You gotta stop going after the dude, Damara. You’re too good for him.”_  
“I know. Just like him to see how well I do without him.” She looks back over his shoulder, and smiles prettily. It feels kind of like a threat. “Oh, Rufioh. I not know you manage keep this job.” Kurloz rolls his eyes as Rufioh shifts awkwardly, glancing between the two of them.  
“Yeah … well. Guess I’m okay at this sorta thing.” He says. “Hey Kurloz. Good to see you man.” He waves. “Still the silent type huh? That’s cool. Um.” Damara leans over the table more, definitely trying to show off her bust. “Well. What can I get you guys?”  
“We have my usual. Two orders.”  
"Anything to drink? Um ... oh, yeah, we got two for one pitchers of beer. You know we started carrying your favorite on tap, Damara." Damara just shakes her head. "Water." Rufioh smiles, her briefness making him more on edge, apparently. “Bangarang dudes. I’ll be back.” Rufioh seems eager to leave, and Damara glares daggers into his back.  
_”Doesn’t seem much like you’re over him.”_ Kurloz comments.  
“Whatever. He misses me.”  
_”Well I know he does. He’s an idiot for cheating.”_ Damara folds her arms on the table and buries her face in them.  
“I just want him feel as miserable as me.” She mumbles. Kurloz doesn’t reply, watching her quietly. After a moment she peeks up at him. “Am I bad person?”  
_”No.”_ She studies him for a moment, and then sits up.  
“Are we good people?” He shrugs a little.  
_”Probably not. But we’re not bad.”_ She considers this.  
“You probably right.” She sighs.  
_”Being vengeful is a very … human emotion. Enacting it doesn’t help anything, though.”_ She rolls her eyes.  
“Help me jerk off at night.”  
_”Fair.”_ Damara looks past him again, and a moment later waters are sat down in front of them. Kurloz looks up at Rufioh’s slightly panicked face.  
“Here you guys go.” He says. “The … food should be out in a bit. Sound good?” Kurloz nods.  
_”How’s your brother doing?”_ Kurloz signs. Damara reluctantly translates.  
“Oh … he’s doing okay. He’s away for college now! Zoology. It’s pretty cool shit!” He pales a little. “Ahaha, sorry. Don’t tell my manager I swore, he’s super anal about all that.”  
_”It’s cool. What about you?”_ When Damara translates he looks a little nervous.  
“I’m … okay. You know. Kinda hard for an artist these days.”  
“You still with Zahhak?” Damara asks abruptly. This seems to be the question he was fearing, as he now looks like he wants to bolt.  
“I … am.” He says softly.  
“How that work for you?”  
“You know … we’re having some … communication issues. But. That’s normal. Moving in together was maybe not the best idea for us so soon…”  
“Commitment. New for you.” Kurloz puts a hand on Damara’s arm, and she huffs. “Whatever. Good for you. Hope you are together long time, very happy.”  
“Well … thanks I think.” Rufioh’s eyes go back to Kurloz. “Um. What about you guys? I didn’t know you were back in town, Kurloz.”  
“His dad die.” Damara says flippantly. “We clean house.”  
“Oh … I’m sorry to hear that.” Kurloz waves vaguely, as if trying to clear the words from the air.  
“He not miss him.” Rufioh tilts his head a little.  
“Well … I’m glad you’re not torn up over it?” He offers. “Losing someone always effects you though, I think.” His eyes go back to Damara, who glares at him. “You look like you’re doing good though, Damara.”  
“I am.”  
“That’s … good. Maybe we could … talk sometime.”  
“No.” She says simply, and Rufioh sags a little.  
“Alright. Um. Fair. I’ll be back in a bit.” He steps away, and they sit in silence for a moment.  
_”Has he been calling you?”_  
“Sometimes. Only when high.” She sighs. “I never pick people good for me.”  
_”Sometimes it’s just … convenient.”_ Kurloz signs, and she taps a nail on her glass.  
“True.” She sips at her water. “You seeing anyone?”  
_”I haven’t had what most people would call a relationship in a long time.”_  
“Sleeping with dealers again?” He hesitates. “Hm.”  
_”It was just easy. My dealer was a chaser. We both got something out of it.”_  
“How long you have been clean?”  
_”I’ve stopped totally since a month ago. There was a long process of trying to take less. It was definitely the uh. Transaction process that forced my hand on it.”_ He plays with his nails nervously.  
“Well. If nothing else, at least you are off pills. Never liked those.”  
_”I liked them.”_ She raises an eyebrow. _”They helped. Okay?”_  
“In a temporary way.” He makes an irritated noise in the back of his throat.  
_”What does it matter anymore? I’m clean.”_  
“I just not want you relapsing. This is unstable time in life.” He tilts his head. Damara seems to back down from this line of inquiry, sipping her water again. “What about Mituna?”  
_”What about him?”_ Damara raises an eyebrow.  
“You are not together?” Kurloz fidgets a little.  
_”No.”_ Damara raises an eyebrow.  
“You think he is cute.” Kurloz doesn’t respond to that. “What is issue?”  
_”He’s just my best friend, Damara. I know he’s cute, but it’s just an objective statement of fact.”_  
“Okay, okay. Still. There must be someone?” He shakes his head. He didn’t want to inflict himself on anyone. “Hey. What was look?”  
_”I don’t like talking about this.”_ Damara leans in.  
“You are pretty boy, Kurloz. You must have someone.”  
_”I was seeing this girl. For a long time. But I’m a lot to handle, and it fell apart. A lot of being there for me, not enough me being there for her.”_  
“That is too bad.” Damara murmurs. “Maybe another chance now you are clean?”  
_”I don’t think I’ll be dating for a very long time. I make relationships hard.”_  
“No you don’t. You are a sweet person. A little misguided, scared. But sweet. Soft touch. Maybe no one treat you how you need.” His face heats up slowly as she talks, a light blush across his face.  
_”I don’t need a relationship. I’m fine.”_  
“Not saying you need relationship. Just saying … you are not bad like you think. You’re cute. Nice.” He gives her a tight smile, and she boops his nose, making him blink in surprise. She giggles. “See? Cute.” Someone clears their throat loudly, and Kurloz flinches away from the sudden noise, staring at Rufioh as he juggles two plates.  
“Sorry to interrupt … but here you guys go.” A plate of fries and a chicken sandwich is set in front of each of them. “Well. Enjoy.” And Rufioh is gone again.  
“Bitch boy.” Damara mutters.  
_”You have to realize how awkward this is for him.”_ He signs, eyebrow raised.  
“Well, his fault. Did not have to get fucked by Zahhak. No one point gun at face.”  
_”I’m not defending him. I’m just trying to suggest that this is not the best way to get revenge.”_  
“I know.” She plays with her hair a little. “You eat.” He grins at her, picks up a fry, and throws it at her. She squeaks as it goes down her shirt, and then flips him off. 

His car makes a weird noise as he brakes, pulling up in front of the Vantas house. It's late, and he winces a little as he hopes he doesn't wake up the neighbors. He really should prioritize a new truck, this one was edging on straight to junkyard. He locks the car and slides his keys into his jacket pocket, checking to make sure he was a good distance away from the other cars on the street before heading up to the door. About halfway up the walk, he realizes he doesn't have a key or anything. He frowns, stepping up onto the porch and testing the knob gingerly. It's locked, predictably. He knocks on the door softly, wanting to get in but not wanting to disturb anyone asleep. There’s no answer, and he sighs. He pulls his phone out, and is about to shoot Gamzee a text when the door is pulled open suddenly, making him flinch in surprise. Kankri stands in the doorway, arms folded, wearing their pajamas.  
“There’s a key in a fake rock, you know.”  
_”Sorry.”_ He offers, a little embarrassed. Kankri seemed a little too tense at the situation, though, and his embarrassment is overridden by the need to make the situation better. It’s ridiculous to think Kankri would hit him, but his brain has never been rational.  
“It’s … fine.” Kankri steps back, letting him in. “Sorry. I was just having some tea. Did you want any?” Kurloz takes his shoes off before answering.  
_”I’d like that.”_ Kankri nods, and walks back into the kitchen. Kurloz walks quietly after him, the wooden floors not making a sound under his weight. 

Kankri jumps when they turn to see him behind them.  
“Mary and Joseph, don’t you think you could give some warning?” Kurloz kind of retreats into himself, the tone making him react as if a hit was coming.  
_”I’m sorry.”_ Kankri’s eyes flick over him, and then they go over to the counter.  
“Sit at the table. Mint tea okay?” They glance at him to catch his nod, and then busy themself getting a mug made for him. “I was just startled there. Not upset.” They say after a second. Kankri brings the cup over to him and sets it down gently, seating themself across from him. Kurloz tilts his head. “You flinched. Did you even notice?” Their tone is conversational, casual and quiet, like they were talking about a boring day.  
_”No.”_ They hum softly, and it irritates him. What, was he supposed to monitor every move he made?  
“I’ve been thinking about you and Gamzee.” Kurloz frowns, his hands wrapped around his cup tightening and relaxing reflexively. “I’m working towards my psychology doctorate right now. It’s been slow going for a while but … you know, the more I know about the signs of abuse, the more I had to wonder how no one ever … did anything to help you two.”  
_”I’m not interested in talking about this.”_ He signs quickly, the mug rocking a little with how fast he pulls his hands away from it. Kankri loses track of his hands, and he slows it down, signing it for them again.  
“Sorry. I know it’s invasive, I suppose I’ve never been good at being delicate.” They play with their hands. “I suppose I just feel … guilty.”  
_”Why do you feel guilty.”_ He signs before sipping at his tea, inwardly cursing himself at his little slip, letting Kankri continue the conversation.  
“Well we were never very close, I know, but I should have … questioned more. And when Mituna accidentally said something about your dad being … mean … I should have pressed the issue. Instead I found out you’d run away when Mituna’s family moved, and the uh. Whispers started.” They look embarrassed.  
_”Great.”_ He signs. He’s mortified to know people discussed what happened with his family.  
“Anyway. I just … I’m here, if you need.”  
_”How was your day today?”_ He signs abruptly. Kankri blinks once, but seems to roll with it.  
“Well … I went to my class today, and worked for a few hours, and then um.” Kankri’s lips press together tightly. “Well, I suppose you could call it a date of some sort.” Kurloz tilts his head. “Did you know Cronus Ampora in high school?” He makes a vague motion.  
_”The drop-out?”_ Kurloz asks. Kankri’s mildly annoyed expression answers that easily enough.  
“It wasn’t necessarily his fault on that.”  
_”Didn’t say it was.”_  
“Ugh. _Anyway_ , we’ve been … on and off for the past few … years. He’s been particularly frustrating, lately.”  
_”I’m sorry to hear that.”_ Kankri shrugs a little, holding themself a little closer. Kurloz doesn't like relationship drama, he wasn't good with it, wasn't one for advice. Invariably he thinks the best option is to just do anything the other person wants of them, which isn't usually met with open reception. Some people preferred being happy than making other people happy, apparently.  
“I need to stop whatever I have going with him. He’s just … not what I want. He’s very pushy though.”  
_”If you ask Gamzee real nice he’ll intimidate him. He has that effect on people sometimes.”_ He offers. It wouldn't be the first time Kurloz asked Gamzee to handle a situation for him. They were few and far between, if only because he felt horribly guilty for hiding behind the other.  
“Ah. I had … noticed.” Kankri looks pissed, lips pressed together and glaring at his cup like it had personally offended him.  
_”Yesterday was a fluke, I’m sorry he made you upset. He just has a hard time sometimes ... especially lately.”_  
“You shouldn’t apologize for him.” Kankri says sharply, and Kurloz’s fingers flex against the cup, trying to keep any outward reactions to a minimum, since apparently his neurosis were under the microscope here. “Bad habit. If Gamzee is sorry he will apologize. Don’t worry about his actions.”  
_”I am his older brother. I do feel a little responsible … I suppose I made it easy for him to develop the habit.”_ Kankri bites their lip, and he knows exactly what Kankri is thinking. He hated that look, like he needed to be pitied because he never learned how to move on from his childhood. _”Don’t look at me like that. I’m not your client.”_  
“I don’t think you are … I’m simply worried about you, as a friend.” They say, sounding a little hurt. Kurloz pauses. “If you want to know what I’m thinking you should just ask.”  
_”I don’t care what anyone thinks about how I act or how I should be better. This is just how I am now.”_  
“It doesn’t always have to be, you know.” They say softly, and Kurloz looks down into his barely touched cup. “I think if you worked on it, you’d be able to overcome this … wariness about you.” Kurloz pushes his cup away, standing up. He was tired, he was sad, and he just wanted to go to bed and stop being forced to talk about shit.  
_”I’m going to bed. Goodnight Kankri.”_ Kankri watches him, eyes a little big.  
"Nothing ever got better by ignoring it, Kurloz. It's safe to discuss this with me." Kankri's tone has taken on one that they might use with a misbehaving child, and it just makes him more irritated. He stands there for a moment, trying to think about how he wanted to handle this situation. Kankri, of course, doesn't understand what a rotten part it is he's poking at. So they continue to poke, disregarding the fact that now was not an opportune time to fall apart. "I find it fascinating from a professional standpoint how you and your brother both reacted to the trauma that was thrust upon you. From what I remember, it wasn't hard at all to get you to do anything for anyone if they said it in the right tone."  
_"Stop."_  
"I mean, it was sad." They continue, not even watching his hands. "It is sad. If I wanted you to sit down again, I could probably make you, regardless of the fact that I'm smaller than you in every way physically."  
_"Stop. Stop talking."_ Kankri's eyes look him over coolly, half lidded and almost bored.  
"Am I hitting a nerve?" They ask. He's going to cry. He can tell he's going to, and it's just a matter of when he can keep himself from it.  
_"This is not the time to explore the facets of how broken my brain is."_  
"Your brain isn't broken. It adapted. Humans are like that, they adapt easily to the situation, no matter what that situation may be." They sip their tea, waiting for a response. His hands ball up into fists and relax, trying to think, trying to get some sort of jab out. If they wanted to exchange low blows, two could play at that.  
_"At least I didn't end up friendless because I had to contradict everything everyone said. People like how I act."_ This, unfortunately, only makes Kankri laugh a little.  
"People like how you act, simply because it allows them to use you. Am I supposed to be embarrassed that I didn't do everything I was told?" He feels a little thrill of embarrassment, especially at the fact that that took a lot to even let himself say.  
_"I'm sorry."_ He signs quickly.  
"No you aren't." They smirk. "I'm interested to hear what you really think. You can't possibly want to be as accommodating as you are." Kurloz shakes his head quickly.  
_"I don't want to talk about this."_ Kankri shrugs, leaning back casually in their chair.  
"But you will, if only because I want to talk about it. Most people will just walk away at a certain point, even if they hate conflict. I'm not sure what it is that makes you stay for this. Is it my tone? I speak with a fair amount of confidence, so I'm told. Does that make you stay?"  
_"Fuck you."_ They sigh, setting their cup down on the table with a soft clink.  
"You should go to bed. It's late." This, inexplicably, feels like a trap. Kurloz hesitates, taking a step away from Kankri, and then pauses again. "I said it's okay. The conversation is over. I'm sure Mituna is worried about you, so you should go to bed." Kurloz's eyes narrow. He hated mind games, because the only thing for him to do is follow where he's being led. So he does, and turns on his heel, not saying goodnight to Kankri again before heading back down the hallway. He feels Kankri's eyes burning holes in the back of his head as he goes. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have chapter five written but i just hate it guys. i just hate it. so i'll be taking a sledgehammer to that chapter and developing chapter six too. destroyer is gettin a lil neglected but chapter nine is in progress........ that one's actually goin pretty not terrible.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> burn ur trauma. live ur truth.
> 
> this chapter contains mentions of child sexual abuse and drug misuse.

Kurloz works silently with Dirk, scrubbing down the hallway. It was almost done, the whole process completed in silence. Usually, people talked and talked at him when they had to spend extended amounts of time with him. Especially if they couldn’t sign. His silence made people nervous, but Dirk seemed to not care, focused on the task at hand.

The group today was weird, Kankri, the Striders, Mituna, and of course, Gamzee and himself. Kankri had insisted on coming, despite the lack of an invitation, and the Striders had been a last minute add-on.

Gamzee and Dave had teamed up for the dining room, and Kankri was in the kitchen with the occasional “help” from Mituna. Mituna mostly just flitted around, being a welcome nuisance.

Dirk drops his brush in his bucket loudly, making Kurloz straighten a little, eyes fixing on the other.  
“My half is done. Do you need help?” Kurloz glances at the small amount that remains to be cleaned, and shakes his head no. “Alright. I’mma go find out where I’m needed next then.” He picks up his scrub brush and his bucket, and steps into the living room. Kurloz watches him go for a moment before resuming on the wall.

It doesn’t take long before his half is done, too, and he wipes the last bit of grime away and smiles a little. It was satisfying to detail clean, sometimes. Especially when it looks so much better. He sets his bucket down and stretches, his spine popping loudly. His back immediately feels better. He sighs, picks up the bucket, and goes into the kitchen.

Kankri is scrubbing the windows silently, frowning with intense concentration. He isn’t noticed until he dumps the murky water into the sink, making Kankri inhale sharply in quiet surprise, then scowl at him.  
“Was that on purpose?”  
_”Not everything is about you.”_ He signs and they cross their arms.  
“I wasn’t insinuating that that was the case. But it seems like someone is in a mood.”  
_”First I’m too passive for you. Now I’m … what? Too aggressive? Because I accidentally startled you?”_ Kankri rolls their eyes.  
“I didn’t intend to upset you last night … just trigger a genuine reaction. I only want you to be okay.”  
_”I could really feel how much you cared during your self righteous speech about how I’m a pushover.”_  
“I’m sorry. Is that what you want to hear?”  
_”Yes, actually.”_  
“Well I’m sorry, then. Let’s start over, can we?” He hesitates, and decides not to reply, instead refilling his bucket with clean water and soap. Kankri sighs softly. “I am sorry.” Kurloz just sets his bucket on the counter and starts scrubbing the wall behind the sink.

Silence falls for a while, Kurloz focusing on the walls and not at Kankri’s rambling talking as they work, apparently unable to deal with his silence. He expected nothing less. It’s petty, perhaps, on his half to not accept Kankri’s apology. It wasn’t like Kankri was intentionally being rude. Kankri was just kind of like that. But that wasn’t an excuse to talk to him like that.

Dirk clatters into the room, and Kurloz spares him a glance as he starts scrubbing the walls on the other side of the room. Kankri ropes him into a conversation, and Kurloz just tries to tune it out. He’s considering running to his truck and grabbing his headphones when Kankri addresses him again.  
“What do you think about ripping the cabinets out and replacing them?” They ask, giving him a sideways glance. “They’re not very attractive, to be quite frank, and it’d save us the trouble of scrubbing them all out.” Kurloz tilts his head.  
_”Sure, why not? Can’t be that hard … look up some DIY tutorials or some shit.”_  
“Well I’m sure Karkat can manage it. He claims to be an averagely capable handyman at this point. I guess that’s what we aspire to when we don’t go to college.” Kurloz frowns, and doesn’t comment on that. Kankri’s whole deal is wearing him out.  
“If I’m not mistaken, I don’t think anybody in this house ‘cept your ass been t’college.” Dirk comments casually. Kankri’s mouth clicks shut audibly, jaw clenching. “That’ll be useful, though. Knowin’ how to build shit. I can do some decent wiring too, if y’all need it.” Kurloz snaps his fingers at Kankri, grabbing their attention so they can translate.  
_”I appreciate the offer. We’ll have to see what’s needed.”_ Kankri translates, and Dirk nods.  
“‘Course. Dave’s mumbled a few things ‘bout renovations, too. He’s got an eye for that sorta thing. He’s artsy like that and shit.” Kurloz laughs softly, and he sees Dirks mouth twitch up into the barest hint of a smile. “I wasn’t sure how much y’all wanted to do, to be completely honest.”  
_”I’d love it if it didn’t look anything the same.”_  
“I can feel that.” Dirk says softly. “Think I’d feel the same in your shoes.” He tips his head a little in acknowledgement. Having Kankri as a translator felt wrong, they edited his sentences. He didn’t know if it was intentional, or if they just didn’t understand sign that great. He figured it was the latter, but it still made him wish Mituna was there. He realizes he hadn’t seen Mituna in a while, actually. Kurloz snaps his fingers at Kankri to make them look again.  
_”Where is Mituna?”_ Kankri shrugs.  
“I believe he went upstairs, but I am not certain.” Kurloz’s eyes go wide, and Kankri levels a concerned look his way. “Is everything alright?”  
_”Not supposed to be upstairs yet.”_ He signs quickly, pulling himself up.  
“Where are you going?” Kankri asks, but Kurloz is already out of the room.

He hesitates at the foot of the stairs, looking up. Dust hangs in the air, making him want to sneeze. He steps up one stair, and pauses. He super did not want to go up there. He tries banging on the wall, trying to draw Mituna’s attention, but there’s no response. He sighs softly, and makes his way up the spiraling stairs.

The floors creak softly under his weight as he steps onto the carpeted landing. His eyes dart around the open area as he suddenly feels very exposed. He flinches when he hears a soft noise from his left, looking towards his open bedroom door with wary eyes. Mituna stares back at him from his doorway.  
“I…” He starts, then pauses. “Sorry. Snooped.”  
_”Can we go downstairs please.”_ He signs, skin crawling at the proximity of his room.  
“I don’ think he fucked with it. Gam’s neither.” He says, instead.  
_”Great. Can we go?”_ Mituna shrugs a little.  
“Thought maybe y’would wanna goes in. Or summin. Since you’re came up here anyways.” He shakes his head no. “Well I’m gonna clean it out a lil by m’self then.”  
_”I’d like to just go back to the kitchen.”_  
“You don’ hafta stay.” Mituna folds his arms.  
_”It’s my fucking room.”_ He signs, getting angry. Mituna just levels a cool look at him, looking more put together than usual. It’s enough to make him back down a little. After a long moment of silence, Kurloz steps further onto the landing, towards his room. Mituna moves out of his way as he steps in, looking around.

Dust has settled on most of the surfaces, and for the most part it is exactly how he left it. He remembered how he had it, sheets made neatly, his old phone and house key placed neatly on top of his dresser, all of the clothes he left behind washed and hung. His dad had obviously been in his room, as his blankets were unmade like someone had slept in them. Mituna watches him silently.  
“Anything in here for to keep?” Mituna asks. Kurloz shrugs, uncomfortable.  
_”Not really. I took everything important when I left.”_ Mituna nods. _”Is it too late to burn this whole house down?”_  
“Lotta effort jussa burn i’down.” Mituna comments.  
_”True.”_ Kurloz runs a hand over the sheets of his bedding, the sun through the blinds creating a striped effect over it. The blankets are old, thin things that needed replacing even before he’d claimed them for his room. His skin crawls, knowing that of all the things his dad could have messed with, he chose his bed. Didn’t he have a lifetime of memories to run through with the thing? It wasn’t enough that he raped his kid here, over and over? He had to … come back? And what? Why would he want to? Did he like remembering how hard he cried the first time? How dead he must have looked after he learned it was easier to just stay as still as possible and let his father do as he wanted? His hand fists in the bedding.  
“Loz?”  
_”Help me drag these outside.”_ He signs after a moment, and Mituna straightens up as he grabs one end of the mattress, yanking it off the bedframe and dropping it, half on the floor now. The blankets shift haphazardly, threatening to fall.  
“Wait, hol’ onna minute!” Mituna says, scrambling to grab the other side. “Ugh, g’nna pulla muscle…” Kurloz just waits blankly. After Mituna grabs a side, they push it out into the hallway. At the top of the stairs, Mituna pauses. “Wait a second, how d’we-” Kurloz shoves the mattress,  
sending it down the stairs solo. There’s a cacophonous noise as it tumbles down, snaps the railing, and drops 8 feet down to the foyer.  
“What the fuck.” He hears, distantly. He just stares at the mattress on the ground floor, the broken railing sticking out from under it and the sheets splayed out on the floor. He grins, feeling vicious.  
“Is everyone okay?” Kankri steps into the foyer. “Ah. I see.” They step towards the mattress, nudging it with their shoe. “I suppose we are burning this?”  
“I’m burning it.” Kurloz says, suddenly. Everyone’s eyes snap to him.  
“Did you…” Kankri starts.  
“I said. I. Am burning it.” His eyes narrow, and Kankri raises their hands in mock surrender.  
“Yes, fine. No problem.” They say. “I’m just … surprised to hear your voice.” Kurloz doesn’t reply, just stalks down the stairs and grabs the mattress again, dragging it into the living room and out the back door.  
“Do you need help, man?” Dirk asks, and he doesn’t reply to him either.

He moves it all the way out to the backyard and dumps it on the fire pit, wasting no time before pouring out the rest of the gasoline on it. He hears a noise behind him as he strikes a match, dropping it on the mattress and watching it go up in a flash. Mituna appears beside him, and holds the pile of blankets and sheets out to him. He takes them and throws them haphazardly on the mattress. They catch fire easily. All he can do is watch it burn.  
“Well that was a waste of gasoline.” Kankri mutters behind him.  
“Kanny stoppit!” Mituna hisses. The white fabric browns, blackens, and crumbles away to ash as it’s burnt, the springs inside melting a little in the intense heat. He’d been forced onto that mattress countless times. Told he was beautiful while his body was being … defiled. No matter how many times he washed his sheets, his room, his own body, he never felt clean. Never felt like it would go away.

Now it was gone, period. He’d never have to see it again.

“Hey guys, what the fuck is goin’ on?” He hears Gamzee’s voice, and it’s enough to pull him out of his head. “Loz. You … fuck. Are you cryin’?” Gamzee’s close enough to hug now, and he does, pulling him in tightly. Gamzee makes a surprised noise, but after a second his arms wrap around him, letting Kurloz bury his face in his shoulder.

There’s a soft noise as people seem to move away from the two of them, and after a while he hears the back door slide shut. “They all went inside bro.”  
“Good.” His voice is rough, and it’s embarrassing. He hated crying in front of Gamzee. Wasn’t he supposed to be the strong one? He was the older one, after all.  
“It’s okay, man. You’re good.” Gamzee says softly, holding him tighter. “That was your bed?” He nods against him. “Nice.”  
“I guess.”  
“This place doin’ a number on us huh?”  
“Us? Seems like it’s just me bein’ a little bitch about this shit.” Kurloz’s voice wavers a little as he tries to keep from crying. Gamzee is quiet for a long time, his hand rubbing Kurloz’s back as he cries silently.  
“I ain’t real good at this emotional expression shit.” Gamzee says after a while. “Still. Hurts, bein’ here. And. Listen, Kurloz. I. I wanna apologize.”  
“Why? You never did anything.” Kurloz says, pulling away a little. Gamzee lets him go, looking away and holding his arms close to himself, folding them across his chest tight.  
“Can I be honest with you?” Kurloz frowns, tilts his head.  
“I mean shit, Gam. If not me, then fucking who?” Gamzee relaxes a little, but not much.  
“When we were kids. I could uh. I always. Well. Our rooms were right across the hall from each other.”  
“I know.”  
“I could hear all the shit he said to you.” Kurloz presses his lips together, body language mimicking his brother’s now, closed off and a second from bolting away from this situation. “And I got. Well I was a kid you know? I just … got jealous that he loved you.” There’s an extended silence, as Kurloz studies Gamzee’s face. It, unfortunately, appeared he was sincere.  
“Loved me?” His voice is nothing more than a whisper.  
“I mean … yeah. I know … that’s fucked up of me. But all he ever had to say to me was what a failure I was. Shit hurts. And I wanted him to tell me he … loved me too. Especially when we were real little.”  
“He didn’t love me.” Kurloz snaps.  
“I know but like … he said it though, and I-”  
“I KNOW WHAT HE SAID!” He shouts, suddenly. Gamzee blinks. “I remember everything. Everything! All the shit he used to tell me, do to me! Fuck! If you wanted to switch places you should have just said so. If you preferred my situation, I’d have gladly traded!” He shouldn’t yell at Gamzee. Some part of him knows that. But the idea that Gamzee _envied_ his father’s hands on him? It was unreal.  
“I never wanted that!” Gamzee yells right back at him, and it makes him feel small. It was only fair, he knew, but. Gamzee sounded like their dad. He was sure that fact haunted him every day. “I just wanted him to tell me he fucking loved me! To … to hug me, and pretend like I wasn’t a collasal fuckup!”  
“You’re not. You weren’t.”  
“I fucking am! I … fuck! I’m slow and … and I don’t say the right shit, and now I gotta take all these fuckin’ meds cause I’m just so … angry all the time! I’m turning into him! There’s nothing I can do about it, either! I miss one fucking dose and I can barely keep from lashing out and … and you don’t fucking help, you know!” Kurloz flinches. “Why can’t you tell me when to stop? When I’m hurting you? You make it … fuck! You make it so easy to hurt you!”  
“It’s not my fault.” His voice is quiet again. “It’s … I just…”  
“You just fucking stand there and let people use you! Don’t you get angry? Don’t you want to scream and tell people to get the fuck away?”  
“Of course I do, but-”  
“Then why don’t you? Why don’t you stand up for yourself? Huh? It’s like you want to be used!”  
“I’m sorry.”  
“And that’s all you ever say!”  
“I-I-”  
“What? What could you possibly manage to spit out? Another sorry?” Kurloz squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, trying to stay in place. Trying to stay in this moment, and not slip backwards.

“Dad, please, stop.”

It’s almost silent, but they both hear him say it. Kurloz’s eyes open.  
“Gamzee. I didn’t mean that.”  
“Fuck.”  
“I didn’t mean it, please. Please don’t-” Gamzee moves suddenly, and Kurloz takes an involuntary step back. Instead of a hit, he finds himself pulled into a crushing hug.  
“I didn't mean that shit, dude. It just. I got a stupid, big mouth.” Gamzee says, and Kurloz hesitantly hugs him back.  
“It’s fine. I … I do make it easy.”  
“No. Fuck. You’re just you, dude. Nobody should be talkin’ to you like that.”  
“It’s okay. I’m … _I’m_ sorry, Gam.”  
“Shut up.” Kurloz falls silent in a second. “This shit is my fault here. You’re too nice to … to push back, it’s on me to control my fuckin’ self.”  
“I can handle it.”  
“No you can’t. And you shouldn’t have to, anyway.” Gamzee pulls away a little, still holding Kurloz’s hands. His baby brother is fucking tall now, and it throws him off. Kurloz isn’t exactly short, and Gamzee had him beat by at least five inches. “Are you okay?”  
“I’m fine. Always just … I’m always good, Gam.” Gamzee frowns.  
“Liar.”  
“I’m not.” Gamzee hand takes his hand more firmly, and he flips it so it’s palm up. Kurloz presses his lips together as his wrist is exposed, horizontal scars running up and down it like a ladder, and one huge, vertical one, staple scars dotted around it.  
“Always fine, right?” Kurloz purses his lips. At least none of the ones here are new. He wasn’t sure if Gamzee knew he never quite stopped.  
“I’m doing better. I’m just pathetic.”  
“You’re not. Don’t fucking say that.” Kurloz studies him. He’s intense, but not angry. “You’re a good guy. Sometimes too much of one, but that doesn’t make you pathetic. It makes you a nice fucking person.”  
“My therapist said I … have a need to make everybody happy. And it’s just totally ingrained in me now.”  
“Tracks.” He murmurs. “They ever tell you how t’fix it?”  
“Never got that far with that shit. Self medicating was easier. And cheaper.”  
“I hear you on that one.” He pulls Kurloz’s sleeve back down gently. “I’m sorry for what I said to you. You’re not a target. I just don’t have any fucking self control.”  
“I am, though.”  
“You aren’t. You’re just too nice for me to be around. ‘s why I need Kat, he don’t let me get far on my bullshit. Got him as a buffer.”  
“I … Gamz. I know it’s hard for you. If you need to take it out on someone though, I’d rather it be me than anyone else. I. Well, shit. I don’t care if you use me like that.” His whole stupid brain was wired to be used as a verbal punching bag, and he was basically ruined anyway. Not good for much of anything at all.  
“Fuck no. Kurloz. Why the fuck would you say that?”  
“Cause it’s what I’m good at, man.” He says. Gamzee looks so sad.  
“Stop talking like that.” He says. “Shit, dude. You should be happy too.”  
“Ha.”  
“Fuck off. You should be.” He snaps. “You’re my fucking brother, I love you! I don’t want you to be miserable.” Kurloz is quiet for a long moment.  
“I’m trying to be happy.” He says eventually. “I don’t think I’m totally capable of it sometimes.”  
“Maybe you should get some kind of treatment.” Kurloz shakes his head. “It’s different now. You can afford it.”  
“I can’t take any meds. It’s a fucking rabbit hole, Gamzee. You’ve never … narcotics are so easy to fuck up with. It just takes one time before you find out it’s easier being numb all the time.”  
“I’m not talking about narcotics. You know I don’t want you on that shit either.” Gamzee says. “You’re depressed. You’re anxious. You’re obsessive. There’s medication for that shit, meds that you won’t get into a hole with. And Karkat’s workin’ on helpin’ me find a good therapist around here. You could go too.” Kurloz stays silent. After a moment, he speaks.  
“My last therapist didn’t do much for me. Talked more’n one session than I could manage in all ten.”  
“Hey. Different people need different kinds of therapists. You need one that understands your anxiety. They can’t just talk over you.”  
“Everyone does.”  
“Everyone shouldn’t. You’re paying for a fucking service, and if they ain’t what you need then fuck ‘em.” Kurloz chews on the back of one of his lip piercings, and Gamzee just watches him.  
“Okay. Okay, I’ll go get a fuckin’ therapist.” Gamzee smiles.  
“Good. Great, man. Karkat told me there’s this one place that seems pretty nice, he used to see this lady there…” Gamzee talks at him, taking his hand before pulling him back inside.

“Hey, we brought dinner!” Gamzee announces, loudly, as they all make their way in the door. It was a whole mess of people, but Gamzee had promised everyone dinner, and felt bad not sharing it with Karkat and Mr. Vantas. Karkat looks up from the couch, does a double take, and then turns red, apparently unprepared to be seen by his crush while he was in a worn t-shirt and baggy pajama pants.  
“Gamzee why the fuck did you drag everyone over to our house?” Karkat asks, visibly flustered.  
“We didn’t mean to crash.” Dave says nervously. “Uh. Gamzee said you said it was cool if I came over?” Karkat glares daggers at Gamzee, who just sets one of the bags of Chinese food down on the table.  
“Mr. Vantas!” He calls.  
“Be up in a moment!” Comes the reply, from the basement.  
“I mean I’d like to stay if it’s cool, haven’t seen you in a few days…” Dave is starting to ramble.  
“Dave. It’s fine.” Karkat cuts him off, getting off the couch and coming over. “Stop standing in the doorway, dumbass.” Karkat pulls him in, dragging him into the living room. Kurloz pushes off his boots as Dirk does the same. Dirk seems profoundly uncomfortable with the whole situation, probably feeling like the odd man out. It doesn’t take long before Kankri gestures for him to step inside, taking him to the kitchen table to sit down. After a rough start, Kankri seemed to take a liking to Dirk. Dirk seemed … okay with Kankri. He was hard to read. But he listened to Kankri go on and on quietly, offering only the occasional one-liner. It seemed almost routine for him. Kurloz lingers in the doorway, feeling itchy and gross and ready to go to bed. He didn’t want to be viscerally reminded of how little he belonged here. Even after talking to Gamzee, he felt no less alienated, no less … lesser. Words aren’t his strong suit.  
“Loooooozieeeeee…” He feels a hand on his arm, and he looks towards Mituna. Mituna gives him a crooked smile. “Did good today.” He smiles back a little.”You look tired. Sad.”  
_”I am.”_ Mituna bites his lip a little.  
“You going bed now?”  
_”Thinking about it.”_  
“Can I bring you food? Eat in bed?”  
_”I’m not really hungry.”_ Mituna looks troubled, and takes his hand.  
“Kurloz. You doin’ thing again. Gots to eat.” Kurloz chews on the back of his piercing, thinking. Finally he shrugs.  
_”I’ll sit down and eat a little.”_ Mituna beams, and it makes it worth it.  
“Good! You’re bein’ good, Lozzie, you know. No pills. Eatin’ more.” Kurloz looks away from him.  
_”Can we not talk about that here?”_ Mituna straightens up a little, seeming to realize that it might be inappropriate to discuss that, and then gives him a tiny smile.  
“Sorry. Are though. Good.” Kurloz lets Mituna drag him to the table, sitting down between him and Kankri. Karkat drags two more folding chairs to the table and sets them up, gesturing for Dave to sit next to his brother. Gamzee falls into the seat on the other side of Karkat, leaning up against him.  
“Oh, people! Hello new people.” Mr. Vantas says cheerfully, setting a basket of laundry on the couch before sitting down between Gamzee and Mituna. “What’s all of this?”  
“Dinner, Mr. Vantas.” Gamzee says, passing a takeout container to him. Mituna snatches another one, dumping sesame chicken onto Kurloz’s plate, and then his own.  
“Oh, don’t take it all!” Kankri complains, and Mituna slides it over to him.  
“God I hate listening to you whine at him.” Karkat says, having snatched a container of rice. He pokes Dave’s hand with a fork when he tries to steal it.  
“I am not whining!”  
“Are too.” Mituna says, and blows a raspberry.  
“How mature.”  
“Kanny. I gotta disorder. Can’t be mean, Kanny.” Kurloz laughs behind his hand as Kankri turns red.  
“The man has a point.” Dirk says stoically.  
“You too?! Unbelievable!”  
“You know he only does it because you freak, right?” Karkat asks, splitting his attention between Dave casually nabbing stuff off his plate and arguing with his sibling. “You have food on your own plate, Dave!”  
“Tastes better off of yours. It’s an anomaly, bro, I gotta get my hypothesis up in this shit. Scientific theory and all that.”  
“I can’t stand you.”  
“You adore me.”  
“Whatever!” The two of them are undeniably cute, both blushing a little.  
“Y’all should kiss already.” Gamzee drawls, and Karkat buries his face in his hands.  
“I’m in hell. This is a specially designed torture chamber for me, to punish me for being right all the time.”  
“Aww … don’t be like that.” Gamzee leans heavily on Karkat, who gives him a look of exasperated fondness. “Don’t mean nothin’ bad by it. I just think you two’d be cute.”  
“I didn’t realize you were an expert matchmaker.” Karkat scoffs. “Just eat your fucking chicken, will you?”  
“I like to think I know a thing or two ‘bout love.” Gamzee’s not upset in the slightest at Karkat’s tone, picking at his chicken. “Got all kinds of love up in this bitch right now.”  
“Gamzee, please.” Karkat huffs, petting his friend’s hair. Gamzee’s smile gets a little bigger. “God, when was the last time you brushed your hair?”  
“My hair’s too fuckin’ curly to brush it every day.” He protests, popping a piece of chicken into his mouth. He continues to talk with his mouth full. “Why we gotta argue about this every day ‘Kat?”  
“Because you’re starting to look homeless. AND you stink.”  
“I was cleanin’ all day.” He shrugs. ‘I’ll shower before bed, it’s all cool.” Karkat rolls his eyes, a fond look on his face. Kurloz watches as Dave hesitantly takes Karkat’s free hand, and Karkat blushes, but doesn’t pull away.  
“Loz.” His attention is pulled back to Mituna, who’s struggling with the fork. He gently fixes his grip on it, and he stabs a piece of chicken successfully. “Thanks.” He nods a little, fixing on his own plate. He eats slowly as the rest of the table continues to banter. It feels … cozy? It’s nice. The Vantas’ home is welcoming, and he wished he had something like this as a kid. The only enjoyable “family” meals they had was when Kurloz and Gamzee had breakfast at school in the morning, holed up in a corner of the highschool lunchroom at six a.m., silently working on their homework together.  
“Kurloz. Outta ya head.” Mituna flicks him, and he flips him off, making him snicker. He pulls him into a side hug, making him whine in complaint. “Crushing me! Loz, noooo!” He buries his face in Mituna’s hair, making him laugh. “Ass!”  
“You love me.” He says quietly, and Mituna leans into him.  
“I do. Eat y’food, Loz. G’na wasted away. Lookin’ like a skeelton. Skelton? Skeleton. That one.” He laughs softly, and picks at his food some more.

The Striders stay pretty late, and Gamzee ends up hanging out with him and Mituna to give Karkat some privacy. He’s got a lap full of hyperactive Mituna while Gamzee sits on the floor, knitting quietly.  
“What’re y’makin, GZ?” Mituna asks, half of his attention pulled into his DS.  
“Fuckin’ tea towel, bro. Shit’s fun as hell.”  
“Why a tea towel?” Kurloz laughs. Gamzee flips him off as best he can with his hands full.  
“Cuz me and ‘Kat gonna get a house for ourselves. Just want some nice shit in there, I guess.” He shrugs, starting another row.  
“Any other grand plans for your money?” Gamzee doesn’t say anything for a moment. “Gam.” He glances up.  
“Don’t laugh at me.”  
“Okay?” He quirks an eyebrow. Gamze twists his mouth a little.  
“I was kinda thinkin’ about opening up some kinda bakery, man.” He shrugs a little, hesitantly. “It’s something I always wanted to do, y’know? I love baking.”  
“That’d be cool!” Mituna puts his DS down, looking at Gamzee with interest. “You gonna do like uhhhhh. Edibles?”  
“No, just like … regular shit. I just … I dunno. I’m smoking a lot less. You know I’m only smoking like once a week now?”  
“Thought you were staying steady at three days?” Kurloz asks.  
“I have different meds now. They help. And I feel clearer when I’m not all doped up, you know how it is.”  
“Thought that was the idea.” Kurloz says flippantly. Gamzee presses his lips together.  
“Not so appealing anymore.” Kurloz tilts his head. “You gotta know how I be feelin’ on all this. Like sometimes, you know, you stay blazed for like a week and a half straight and your brain ain’t sure what your real personality be like no more. I mean fuck. It feels nice, I’m not saying it’s not fun every now and then. But I really … I don’t fucking know dude. I’m not a poet or a writer, and I don’t got the right words to be tellin’ how I’m up and feelin’.” Kurloz nods.  
“I get it.” He says softly. Mituna makes a tiny noise.  
“Heavy.” He mumbles.  
“You got that fuckin’ right, man.” Gamzee goes back to his knitting. “God I’m so shit at this.”  
“You’re fine.”  
“You’ve always been way better at this crafty shit.” Gamzee grumbles, and groans as he realizes he just fucked his row up. “Fuck.”

There’s a soft knock on the door, and Karkat opens it. He glances at Kurloz and Mituna before looking to Gamzee.  
“Hey, Dave just left. I’m gonna go to bed.”  
“Cool. Yo, do you like this?” Gamzee holds the half finished towel up to him, and Karkat laughs.  
“Yeah, it’s good. You’re getting better at that.” Gamzee picks himself up, stretching lazily. “You’re coming to bed now?”  
“‘S been a long day, bro. More shit to do tomorrow, an’ it’s late.”  
“Didn’t need to defend your decision, just a question.” Gamzee shuffles a little.  
“Yeah. Sorry.”  
“You’re fine. You know you don’t have to apologize for something like that.” Karkat spares Kurloz and Mituna a glance. “Dave said you guys might be interested in doing some actual renovations.” Kurloz nods a little. “Alright. Alright, sure.”  
_”Once we clean everything we can talk about knocking down walls. See what needs to be done so you can give us a quote.”_ Karkat flashes him a brief smile when Gamzee translates.  
“Sounds like a plan. Night, you two.” He and Gamzee leave, and Mituna pulls away from him, sprawling across the bed.  
“We cleanin’ more amorrow?” He asks, and Kurloz tilts his head and nods.  
“Yeah. Yeah, we are. Shit. We’ll have to start downstairs or on dad’s room…”  
“‘s okay. Friends’ll help.” Mituna pats his arm before laying back on the bed, picking his DS up again. “Will be good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another 1 bites the dust. i didnt have anyone proofread this or anything i just wanted to throw it out there like spaghetti on a brick wall

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! im having a great time writing this, it's so cathartic. i hope everyone likes it as much as i do! comments and criticisms welcome!  
> my tumblr is helldyke420 if you want to follow!


End file.
